Ariadne
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: Once a Priestess-Queen loved a prince of Athens turned bull leaper, then lost him to the Fates' decree. But what if she decided to try and win him back? The untold story of Ariadne & Theseus! A/T
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_**Knossos Palace, Crete, in the time of King Minos:**_

A NIGHT BIRD HOOTED mournfully somewhere in the palace gardens. Hearing it, Cleate made the sign of warding. All knew that the cry of the screech owl foretold disaster. Though the night air was warm and filled with the scent of myrtle blossoms, flowers sacred to Aphrodite, Goddess of Passion and Beauty, Cleate shivered and clutched her cloak tighter about her bony shoulders. In vain had she importuned her mistress, the Thrice-Holy Pasiphae, Queen of Knossos, to forget the man that now waited on the shadowed path beneath the myrtle's boughs. What was he, after all, but the son of some barbarian prince of heathen Scythia, lacking even the courtesies of the lowliest Cretan laborer? Cleate snorted. She could not dispute Pasiphae's right to take lovers where she would; such was a queen's prerogative; for she, like the Earth Mother, could choose one consort or many to celebrate the gift of life with her.

In the past, Cleate had been willing, even eager, to arrange such meetings between the queen and a man who had caught her eye, as the current consort's health was failing and the queen had but one healthy girl-child to follow her as Priestess-Queen. One was not enough; Pasiphae needed yet another, in case some ill luck should befall little Ariadne. Cleate made the sign to ward against evil. Minos, Queen's consort and Priest-King, had only managed to give her two children, and one of them but a male, good only for war and mayhem.

But to seek to get an heir with a brute of a Scythian was beyond Cleate's comprehension. The man did not even know enough to eat with a fork and spoon, but used his fingers like Kippa, Ariadne's pet monkey. He was coarse and rude and grew hair on his face like a beast and his small, narrow eyes reminded the old woman of the bulls bred for the arena. True, he had shoulders to rival Hercules, but even at that Cleate could not see what attraction he held for her gentle, proud mistress. _My Lady would have done better to mate with one of the white bulls of Poseidon that we use for the sacrifice than that filthy Scythian beast. No good can come of this. Whatever seed comes from that one's loins will be tainted and sick._

But Pasiphae would not heed her old waiting-woman's warnings. She was as lovesick as a girl just newly come to womanhood, that desires the first male to glance her way. The palace women said that the Sea God, Poseidon Earthshaker, had made the queen mad with desire as punishment for not giving him his proper respect along with the Earth Mother at the last harvest festival. Cleate thought it more likely that this mad passion was due to capricious Aphrodite, who delighted in meddling in the affairs of mortals and making them desire what normally would be distasteful.

The servant hurried up the marble steps, nearly stumbling in her haste, as there was little light; the moon was but a crescent sliver in the sky. The queen had conspired with Daedelus, the court artisan, to sneak the Scythian out of the Bull Court and to the queen's private garden. There was no real need for the deception, for not even Minos could forbid Pasiphae from taking a slave to her bed; perhaps, though, Pasiphae was secretly shamed by her desire and did not want to reveal her choice to the whole palace. Cleate could well see the sense in that. And Daedelus was close-mouthed for an Athenian and would not go blabbing all over Knossos like some fishmonger's wife.

Still, despite all of their careful planning, Cleate knew that the secret would not be kept for long. By tomorrow or the next day all in the city would know of the queen's visit to the garden and the lover she took under the myrtle bush. Nothing could be kept secret for long in the Little Palace, the very walls had ears and eyes to spy with.

Cleate entered the tiled hall leading to the queen's chambers; the guards on watch waved her soundlessly through the tall carved wooden doors. In the small anteroom just off the main chamber where the queen slept, Pasiphae waited, idly twirling a ball of flax in her hands. She wore a long dark cloak lined with the fur of a mountain cat about her tall frame, the hood drawn up to shadow her face; one look at her high cheekbones and sea-green eyes would give her identity away immediately, for the green eyes were the mark of royalty.

"Is all arranged?" the queen's mellow voice held only the faintest hint of impatience.

"He waits beneath the myrtle, Lady, as you bid." Cleate replied, trying not to let her distaste show.

Pasiphae knew her waiting-woman too well. She laughed softly and said, "Quit frowning so, Cleate! Tonight I shall make a daughter with Koris, a little princess for Crete. You do not think him capable I know, but this once, old nurse, you are mistaken. He is like no man I have ever seen, rough and wild and lusty. It is too bad he is a slave, what a King he would make!"

Cleate gasped in horror. To even think of such a brute as Priest-King was, why it was sacrilege!

The queen shook her head at her woman's horrified stare. "Come now, I was only teasing. I know full well that only those with the sacred lineage of Zeus Thunderer in their blood may reign as consort and King. Fine though he is, Koris is a Scythian through and through. Neither the gods nor the people would ever accept his rule; besides he does not have the temperament necessary to reign over such a diverse city as Knossos."

"They say that the temperament of the sire will stamp all his offspring, Lady. Are you sure it is wise to bring such wildness as you have spoken of into the Royal House?" Cleate attempted one last time to make her mistress see reason.

Pasiphae frowned in irritation. "The House of Minos grows thin and weak with age; we need new blood to strengthen it. A little wildness is not a bad thing, it shows health and strength, which she will need when it comes time to rule in my stead. Don't worry, such wildness as he has will be harnessed and tamed by the cool logic and patience of hundreds of my ancestors, who came to power long before the first Scythian fashioned a knife out of stone and learned to hunt like a man instead of a beast."

Cleate closed her mouth firmly and said nothing, but thought, _That cannot have happened too long ago, the man is little better than a beast still._

The queen bent down and kissed the woman's forehead. "The Goddess has sent me to him. All will be well. From this night will come a child such as all the world has never seen."

Then, without so much as a whisper, the queen left to seek her lover.

Cleate felt a chill wind blow over her at Pasiphae's words. _She says the Goddess sent him to her, but does she know which Goddess it is? For all of her wisdom and power, I think not._

The old woman removed her cloak and spread it to dry on the hearth. Then she busied herself stirring up the fire, for she still felt chilled. In the west wing, the rest of Pasiphae's maids slept on, unknowing of the dark destiny that was being woven this night. At last Cleate settled herself on a stool by the fire to await her lady's return.

Somewhere in the dark beyond the palace walls a screech owl hooted.

_From this night shall come a child such as all the world has never seen._

Cleate shivered and thought _My lady has spoken prophecy, but it is ill. No good shall come of this night. This child, whatever it is, will bring only fire and doom upon Crete until all is laid waste and Knossos is nothing but dust and ashes._

Nine months later the queen was delivered of a boy child. Upon seeing him, she turned her face to the wall and wept, for his face was hideously deformed. His upper lip was split and his nose flattened and his eyes were small and beady. Cleate threw up her hands in horror. "Why his face is like a beast's, all pushed in and flattened with those beady yellow eyes like a bull calf's. He even bleats like one!"

Indeed there was something strangely beast-like about the ugly child, whom Pasiphae named Asterion, meaning Star Bright, for all of her hopes had been with this child. But among the palace women and the people of Knossos he was known as Minotauros, Minos's Bull, for his bull-like features and in mockery of the King, who must accept this child into the royal house as his own; in Crete a child belonged to its mother and she alone had the right to cast it out or to raise it as she saw fit.

So the child remained, raised as a palace son; and he was wild and ungovernable with a ferocious temper, given to sudden fits of cruelty and rage where he would bellow and roar like the bull that was his namesake. In time everyone forgot that his birth name had been Asterion and he was known to all as Minotauros, the half-mad beast-like son of Minos.

_Naxos_

THE SUN SANK SLOWLY into the sea; sputtering and glowing like the last crimson ember of a dying fire. Rose and lavender tinted the sky, expertly drawn strokes of the master of all artists, nature. The sea was calm, serene, despite the froth trailing from the waves. The fading light turned the sea a brilliant cobalt, rendering the crystal clear waters opaque as a sheet of steel. The wind blew from the west, carrying the faint scent of roses and hyacinths. It curled lazily around the expanse of wind-ruffled sand to tantalize the nostrils of the woman who stood on the shore, looking into the ocean.

The sunset's beauty was familiar to the woman's brilliant green eyes, but she managed a small smile of delight. The laughing wind rumpled her hair, turning the carefully combed ebony locks into hopeless tangles. The woman paid no heed, for all her attention was fixed on the rising waves. In her face, noted by all for its extraordinary beauty, was a stillness so deep and so calm that one might have thought her carved from stone. Only the rapid rise and fall of her chest betrayed the fact that the calm was but a mask to hide the ever-growing excitement and longing inside her.

It was time. At long last, it was time. She knew it with every fiber of her body, every breath she took, every last pulsing beat of her heart. After five long years of waiting, of wondering, of hoping, of dreaming, it was time. Time to return to the one she had pledged both body and soul to. Her exile was ended and at long last the Fates would allow her to return to the one she loved. Loved with a passion beyond denying, beyond reason. Loved perhaps too much.

The years had not dimmed her passion; if anything it had grown stronger. She could only hope that time had done the same for him, allowing the bitterness and sting of betrayal to dim and fade. She could only hope that enough time had passed for him to forgive her.

Her slender, long-fingered hands clenched the smooth green fabric of her robe, the only outward sign of her inner turmoil. Once again her eyes sought the sea—the beautiful, ephemeral, turbulent sea that her love had so admired and worshiped. She had learned to appreciate the sea, though she was a worshiper of the Earth Mother, not Poseidon Sea Lord. Learned to love its ever-changing beauty, learned to adapt to the sudden changes in mood, serene one moment and raging the next. Yes, she had learned to appreciate the sea, even to love it. But she would never understand it, not as she understood the earth beneath her feet.

That was as it should be, since she was High Priestess of the Earth Mother in Crete, and in her Goddess's full favor. Her service to the Goddess had demanded she betray the one she loved, demanded that she leave him for a time, not for another, but in order to prevent his death.

_Theseus, can you ever forgive me?_

Once again she saw his face in her mind–the sun-bronzed, even features, the aristocratic nose, the teasing grin, the startling aqua eyes that had so enchanted her the first time she had seen them, as a child in a Vision in the courtyard fountain at Knossos palace. She remembered with searing clarity the way he would always brush away his blond hair from his face, with a negligent sweep of one broad hand.

His hands were gentle, so gentle. She remembered their touch, the way he had teased her with those hands, skimming them lightly over her shoulders and back, arousing her to a fever pitch of desire. She ached to be held by him again, longed once more to have his hands upon her body, entwined in her hair. They had made love upon this very beach, in the twilight hours beneath the full moon. Before the warning from the Goddess. The Vision that had told her that she must leave him, for only through that sacrifice would the gods allow him to regain his kingdom.

And so she had gone, slipping away like a thief, leaving him sleeping under the stars, sacrificing love for life, and shattering his trust in the process. But she had not been given a choice. It had been the will of the gods, and she had been pledged to their service since her birth.

He had searched for her, of course. Called and searched until his voice gave out, while she remained hidden from his sight in a small cave not far up the coast, hidden by the impenetrable cloak of Hermes, Lord of Shadows. "Ariadne!" he had called, his voice wrenched with anguish. "Ariadne, my love, where are you? Come back! Come back to me!"

Two tears trickled down her cheeks. She let them fall, uncaring. She had felt as if she had torn her heart out. No, she had torn out both of their hearts, and left them to lie bleeding upon the sand, one last sacrifice to the Fates. Sometimes she felt as if she could feel him still, feel his pain and hurt and bitterness. But she knew it was just a ghost of what they had once shared. His heart and mind were closed to her; they had been since the night she had broken the link between them.

Not once in all those years had she dared to rejoin their souls, to bring to life the bond they had once shared. That would have driven her mad, to feel his pain and grief as well as her own, and be helpless to assuage it. It had been part of her penance, to live without that bond, alone in her mind as she was in her heart, until the time would come when they could be together again.

If it was still possible. If he would still have her back.

Fresh anxiety gripped her tightly, making her shudder. Surely he would have forgiven her by now. He was King of Athens, and Protector of Crete as well. He had a very well-developed sense of compassion and mercy, even when he was a captive of the Bull Court. The responsibility of two kingdoms would have only increased those qualities. But she also knew that she had hurt his pride when she had left him, and the pride of a king was twice that of an ordinary mortal.

He would be furious when he saw her at first. But he had never been able to stay angry with her for long. Neither of them had. The years had been as long and lonely for her as they had for him. Somehow she must convince him of that. Preferably before he called for the headsman, she thought wryly. Which he might well do when he discovered the other thing she had kept from him. She doubted that the years had blunted his temper much.

No more so than they had her own.

He had a right to be angry, even bitter, but that did not mean she would let him walk all over her. She was, after all, the Queen of Knossos, and the High Priestess of Crete. She refused to grovel at his feet, like a common whore, begging his forgiveness. She had done what had to be done, what the Fates themselves had commanded. As had he.

_We were the pawns of destiny, my love. As are all mortals, no matter their station. We were parted, but not forever. And now it is ended, at last. Now I am free to return to you, to come to Athens and be your queen and wife, as you had promised so long ago._

She felt her heart quicken at the mere thought of seeing him, feeling his strong arms about her waist, his lips upon hers, making them burn with passion more glorious than wine, hotter than the forge of Hephaestus. Oh, yes, she missed him. Missed his touch, his quiet laugh, the way his aqua eyes lit up when he saw her, the way he could make her want him with the merest glance, with the simple arching of one golden eyebrow.

Busy as her exile had been administrating to the temple of the Goddess here on Naxos, and raising their child, it had not been enough to sustain her through the tortuous hours of the night. She had spent many a night tossing and turning, her hands reaching out even in sleep for one who was hundreds of miles away. Many times she had ended the night weeping into her pillow, wishing the Fates had seen fit to kill her rather than allow her to suffer this crushing loneliness. There had been plenty of available young men who have been more than willing to end her longing, at least in one respect. But she had turned them away, for there was no comfort in their embrace.

There was only one man she wanted, one man who could touch the deepest part of her, one man who could comfort her. Theseus son of Aegeus, King of Athens, once a bull leaper of Crete, and the man destined to be her mate for all of eternity. The man she loved with all of her soul.

Soon she would board the small trading vessel _Amphitrite_, bound for Athens. Soon she would be sailing through the magnificent Aegean Sea and gazing upon the great granite cliffs that guarded the city of Athens. Soon she would face the man she had left lying on the beach so long ago and discover what remained of their love. But for now she was content to lose herself in the timeless swell of the ocean.

Ariadne, Priestess-Queen of Knossos, leaned back upon the sand, her hands tucked beneath her head, and listened to the gentle hush of the waves. She breathed in the heady perfume of the salt water, strangely mixed with the scent of hyacinths and roses.

Flowers and the sea. The two scents she remembered best from her childhood as princess of Crete. She breathed them in deeply and allowed her mind to travel backwards in time . . .

**A/N: This is the beginning of a new retold myth from the legend of Ariadne and Theseus. Told mostly from Ariadne's POV, based loosely upon real customs of ancient Greece and Crete, hope you all enjoy it! Please leave a review, thanks! Will be rated M for some sexual content (not graphic).**


	2. Chapter 1

**Part One**

**The Vision in the Pool**

ARIADNE WANDERED THROUGH THE palace gardens, delighting in the feel of the cool air against her skin and the warmth of the sun upon her face. She had been ill for a week with a spring fever and had been forbidden to go outside for fear that the air might cause her to become even more ill. To Ariadne that seemed like the very height of ridiculousness, but she could not say so to a high-ranking priestess of the Earth Mother. _Though I will be High Priestess and Queen when I am old enough, as my mother was._ A swift pang of sorrow struck her, as always happened when she thought of her bright and beautiful mother, Pasiphae, Queen of Knossos, who had died that spring bearing her last child, a girl she named Phaedra.

Ariadne had been inconsolable; Pasiphae had been the only one who had truly understood her and the strange Gifts she had inherited. A few months before, the seven-year-old had looked into a bowl of water and Seen a strange ship with a black sail coming towards Crete. She did not know where the ship came from or whether it portended good or ill for her homeland, only that one day it would reach Crete and from it would come someone of great importance. Since then she had been plagued with flashes of Sight—she saw her father being borne upon a litter and her half-brother Minotauros holding an axe, his face filled with a nameless hatred. _That_ vision had woken her up screaming in terror and only her mother had been able to soothe her.

Then, as if the unwanted visions were not enough, Ariadne began to sense the emotions of those around her. It began with Daedelus, her father's valued artisan and a genius with his hands. She had come to him intending to ask him to mend a toy horse that Minotauros had broken in a fit of rage because Minos had forbidden him to go and practice the sword with the soldiers; he had flown into a temper, breaking and smashing everything in sight. Ariadne had left the toy on the table and her brother had snapped its front legs off.

She had come up to the kindly old man, holding the toy carefully in her hands, and said quite calmly, "You still miss your wife, don't you?"

Daedelus started abruptly, and said, "Why yes, but how did you know?"

Ariadne could say only, "It was—I just knew—you do miss her—I can feel it—"

He had not drawn away from her, but said only, "You are young, little falcon, for such power. Still, it is not surprising, with your mother's blood. You will be a great priestess one day, Ariadne."

"Can you fix my horse? That big bully Minotauros smashed it." She held out the broken toy and the artisan took it. "Give me a few days, and the horse will be as good as new."

He was as good as his word. If only that was all she had to worry about. It was true that priestesses were supposed to be different from ordinary woman—they were touched by the Goddess, her mother had said. Ariadne had seen the Goddess enter her mother once, at the last spring harvest, when Pasiphae invoked the Mother's blessing upon the newly sown fields, thus ensuring a full harvest. Her mother had seemed to glow with some great golden light, and her dark eyes seemed filled with stars and she grew at once taller and more regal and Power had poured from her fingertips in a dazzling shower of green sparks. Ariadne had been frightened at first of this stranger who wore her mother's form, but then the Lady had smiled at her and the child's fear was gone, replaced instead by a feeling of tenderness and love so strong that it made tears come to her eyes.

That was Ariadne's first encounter with the Goddess her people called Mother Dia, Earth Mother and Corn Goddess, the Lady of Mysteries. But these powers of hers, which her mother thought were the Gifts of the Lady to her chosen priestess, were not at all like the Gift of fertility Pasiphae could invoke. There was no sense of the Goddess overshadowing her, no gentle presence in her mind. The Sight came when it would, without warning, and she had no control over what she saw. One minute she would be playing with her toy horses and the next she was somehow outside of herself, Seeing things that she had no knowledge of. This sensing of emotions was the same way, she felt whatever emotion was uppermost in a person's mind, especially if it was particularly strong, like anger, jealousy, love, sorrow, or fear. Her mother had promised it would pass; such strong Gifts showed themselves briefly and then slept again until the onset of womanhood.

Pasiphae had promised to train her in their use when she became older. She had not foreseen her early death in childbirth. Now Ariadne was alone and the recipient of Gifts she neither wanted nor needed.

The only one of her mother's women who might have helped her bear this burden was old Cleate, who had been nurse to Pasiphae. But the poor woman was frail and her wits had begun to wander. Once she had ruled the queen's apartments with an iron hand, yet now she was content to sit in her rocker and spin by the fire, leaving the running of the queen's handmaids to the younger Meliantha—whose one great ambition was to warm Minos's bed. Ariadne would often come and sit by the old woman; on her good days Cleate would stroke her hair and tell her stories of when her mother was a child or the legends of Hercules and his Twelve Labors, the story of Hades and Persephone, and Apollo and the Python. But on her bad days she thought Ariadne was her mother and would scold her, "My Lady, you should not be dressed so, what will people think?" when Ariadne came to her wearing one of the shortened skirts and bodices currently in fashion, or "By Olympus, child, you're as brown as an Athenian mountebank! Are you wearing your veil? Go and put it on immediately and have Phyllida soak your face with milk and honey."

Whatever the old woman commanded Ariadne promised to do, but before she had the chance to comply, Cleate would be gone into that strange phantom world of years before. Meliantha said that Cleate had lost her wits when the Queen had died, and laughed at the old woman when she rambled on about how things were done in her day. Ariadne felt only pity for the faithful old woman, who had no one to care for her now—her husband and children were all dead—that her beloved Queen was gone. Ariadne promised herself that she would look after the old woman now; but she was still a child and under the rule of Meliantha and the older priestesses of the temple who would prefer it if Cleate would accommodate them all by dying in her sleep so there would be one less person to be responsible for.

Ariadne had learned that secret by accident as she was returning to her room to fetch a cloak because it had grown chilly. She chanced to hear Meliantha and the under-priestess Thebe whispering that it would be a mercy if the Goddess took Cleate to her Realm, for she had long outlived her usefulness to her Queen and her country. Ariadne had burst into tears; she could sense the jealousy and scorn the two women felt for Cleate and became afraid they might try to hasten the old woman's demise by means of a poppy-laced potion which, given in large amounts, could cause a sleep of death. Sobbing, she fled to her older brother Aegithros, the Crown Prince, who was home on leave from the army.

"What's the matter, Bright Eyes?" he had asked gently when she appeared in the doorway of his apartment, her face streaked with tears.

"They want Cleate to die, I heard them!" Ariadne wept.

"Who does? Come now, dry your eyes." He picked her up and sat her on his lap and scrubbed at her face with his hand. His hazel eyes were kind as he said, "Tell me, slowly now, what's gotten you so upset. If it's something that Minotauros did, the great bully, I'll give him a good beating."

Ariadne giggled and shook her head. She adored her older brother, who was the only adult in the palace who took her opinions seriously. She thought her brother the most handsome warrior in Crete, with his long ebony hair, wide shoulders, and rugged masculine features. Aegithros was always willing to protect her from the evil temper of her younger brother, who was both bigger and stronger than she was and who delighted in tormenting her. "Not this time. It was Meliantha and Thebe—they said they wished Cleate would hurry up and die because she was a useless burden, and no good to anyone any more now that her mind wanders. But she's not! She's my friend."

Aegithros was shocked and angry. "It was wicked of them to say such a thing. That old woman served Mother well, she deserves better than to be made the target of spite and envy." He patted Ariadne on the head. "Don't worry, I'll see to it that she's taken care of. I'll send her to Daedelus, he'll look after her."

"And I can visit her whenever I want." Ariadne stated, a trace of stubborn defiance creeping into her tone.

"Of course!" Aegithros laughed. "Who's going to stop you? You _are_ a princess and the future Priestess-Queen of Knossos, you know."

"I know," Ariadne said solemnly. "But I'm still a little girl, and Meliantha won't listen to me."

"You need to learn how to command, little sister." Aegithros told her. "Come with me for a ride on Zephyr and I'll tell you how to handle that overbearing woman!"

Her brother's advice had been to act like she was in charge, which she was according to rank, and to remind Meliantha calmly and firmly that _she_, Ariadne, was the Goddess's Chosen Handmaiden and deserved respect and obedience—which Meliantha was honor-bound to give, having sworn herself into service long ago. "You mustn't bully her, just let her know that it isn't her place to order you about like a puppet. Once she learns that she can't bully you, you'll have a much easier time of it," he had said.

Ariadne had tried out his advice and found it effective—up to a point. She hadn't, for instance, been able to order Meliantha into letting her go outside and play in the little courtyard when she was still weak from the fever. Then the woman had turned a deaf ear to her or said that Ariadne didn't know what she was saying because the fever had addled her wits. So in some things, Ariadne knew, she was still ruled by adult authority. It was just something she would have to put up with, she supposed, until she was old enough to be initiated into the Woman's Mysteries and take her place as High Priestess in the temple.

Ariadne went to sit on the edge of the big marble fountain with its mermaids and dolphins jumping out of the water. She dipped her fingers in the water, enjoying the coolness of the spray upon her cheeks and black hair. The day was warm and she wished that her hair were not so long; today Meliantha had done it up in fashionable curls and braids on the top of her head like a grown-up lady. She had liked it at first, but now the weight was making her feel hot and uncomfortable.

Irritably, she reached up and yanked out a silver hair clasp. One of the braids came down and hung below her shoulders. There, that was much better. Suddenly she wanted her hair to fly free in the breeze, like the manes of the wild steppe horses Cleate had told her about. The child gleefully pulled out all of the costly jeweled combs and her hair tumbled freely down her back, undoing in the span of a few minutes what it had taken her maid the entire morning to arrange.

She knew Meliantha would scold. She didn't care. She was no longer sick, no longer stuck inside the four walls of her bedchamber going mad from boredom and forced to drink Alcyone the healer's bitter medicines. It was a beautiful day and she intended to enjoy it while she could. She wished that Aegithros were there to enjoy it with her. But he had returned to his duties soon after she took sick; he acted as her father's royal ambassador and one of his duties was the collecting of the tribute the mainland kings owed to the House of Minos. There were many little kingdoms on the mainland; so Aegithros was often away for months at a time.

Ariadne sighed. With her brother away, there were not many people in the palace that she could talk to or who would be willing to play with her. Minotauros was a hateful bully, the common children were not permitted to associate with one as highborn as she, and the daughters of the Cretan nobles were only interested in flirting with boys and painting their faces with kohl and other such things; they bored Ariadne to no end. There was always Daedelus, who would make her puzzles out of wood or teach her how to write in the Cretan style or read to her from his big book of legends.

But she didn't feel like sitting still today, she'd had quite enough of that lately. _I wish_ _Aegithros would come home, so I could ride Zephyr with him. I wish that I could have a horse of my own to ride whenever I wanted. Then I could go anywhere I wanted, and no one could stop me._ She stared down at her hands, small and slender-fingered, like her mother's Cleate had told her, and remembered the feel of Zephyr's mane in her fingers and the wind in her hair as the horse had galloped down the beach.

Suddenly she saw a face in the waters of the fountain. It was a young man, no more than twenty years of age, with golden hair and eyes as blue as waves of the sea. He was dressed strangely, not in a gilded loincloth as the men of Crete, but a strange white tunic that came down to his thighs and was pinned at the shoulder with an iron brooch. A red cloak was about his shoulders and he wore sandals on his feet. He did not have on any arm rings or necklaces such as the men of her country and his hair was cut short. He was frowning, and Ariadne knew that something was troubling him; that he was angry at the treatment he and his companions had received aboard the ship. He was a king's son, but now he was a slave . . .a sacrifice to Poseidon Earthshaker. . ._His God has called him to answer for his people, as a king must, _she thought suddenly and then she saw the deck of the ship he was standing on, its prow rising up arrow straight, cutting cleanly through the waves, flying a flag with a bull's head on it. _Why, that's one of my father's ships. He sails to Crete . . . to meet his destiny, as the Gods have commanded._

Then the vision was gone and she was left dizzy; bright sparks of light dancing in front her eyes. For one moment she thought she had fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing, but she felt the curious aching behind her eyes that always came on her after the Sight had gone. She did not know who he was, but she sensed that he was someone of importance. Someday, she knew, they would meet, for their destinies were entwined.

_He looks kind, like Aegithros. Perhaps he will be my friend,_ she thought and was somewhat comforted that she would one day have a companion. She waited, to see if the Sight would show her anything more about the handsome stranger, but her Gift remained silent. Sighing, the girl stood up and walked away from the fountain. She wandered about the stone paths in the garden, idly picking hibiscus blossoms and scattering them along the walkway. She reached the arched gate that led out to the main courtyard and the stables and peered through the posts at the men bustling about with armor and jewels flashing, marching in ordered columns. A horse whinnied from inside the stable and suddenly Ariadne had an idea.

She knew that she should not act on it, she was forbidden to go outside the palace without a chaperone, especially riding. But it would only be for a little while, just down to the beach and back. She knew Zephyr wasn't getting enough exercise, the grooms had too many horses to tend to and Zephyr was still a bit wild. But Ariadne could ride him, her brother had said she would make an excellent horsewoman.

She glanced around. The soldiers were busy drilling and the courtyard was nearly empty, everyone had gone inside to get away from the noon heat. Meliantha had been summoned by the king, and Ariadne knew that whenever that happened she wouldn't be back until supper. Her maids thought her happily occupied in the garden. She wouldn't be missed for hours.

Just the thought of riding the big chestnut horse filled her with excitement. Even more exciting was the forbidden thrill of danger. She had never done anything really forbidden before, not like Minotauros, who was _always_ in trouble of one kind or another. And it was only one little ride, it wasn't as if she were running away, or stealing Zephyr. Aegithros wouldn't mind, not once she explained how wonderful it had been and how much Zephyr needed the exercise.

Her only problem now was getting the horse out of the stable without being seen.

**Hope you all enjoyed this one. In case you were wondering, the Daedelus who is Ariadne's tutor is the same one who features in the story of Icarus, only here he is not Minos' prisoner, but his honored guest. He works for the king as both tutor and royal advisor/architect. Also Aegithros is not a made up character, in Greek myths, Minos had four children, Aegithros was the eldest, though not much is said about him.**


	3. Chapter 2

ARIADNE CONSIDERED CAREFULLY THE ways in which she might sneak Zephyr out of the stable without the guards catching sight of her. Not that they could do much to stop her; it was forbidden for a mere guard to lay hands on a royal daughter, unless she requested it. But they could very well tell one of the under-priestesses or, Mother forbid, her father. She very rarely saw Minos, but she had heard stories from her maids of his wicked temper and his hands like eagle's talons. The girl shivered. She was the Most-Holy Priestess, but Minos was Priest-King and older and he would be quite annoyed if one of the guards summoned him from the royal bedchamber to bring back his disobedient daughter, who was riding her brother's stallion without a chaperone.

The girl chewed her lip thoughtfully. There were two main entrances out of the stables; one led to the courtyard and was used for the chariots and carriages of the nobles—that was the way she used when she rode with her brother. The other faced the fields and was for the plows and donkeys that the farmers used to till the fields, and also the shepherds with their flocks of sheep and goats that they led to pasture daily on the eastern slopes of Knossos.

Neither of those would do, there were too many people coming in and out. Then she recalled Daedelus showing her a map of the palace and stables during a history lesson. Her tutor had told her that the palace had originally been built on the ruins of an ancient fortress, which had been destroyed in an earthquake long before the first ancestors of her House had set foot on Crete. Some of the passages were still in use, the one Ariadne recalled was a door just wide enough for a single horse and rider that faced the high, jagged cliffs to the sea. That had been kept repaired in case the palace was ever taken in siege, for it offered an escape route for the women, children, and servants.

_No one uses it much anymore. So all I need to do is to slip in, find Zephyr, and then take him out the hidden passage. We can ride along the cliffs, there's a trail down to the beach that Aegithros showed me and no one will be the wiser. _She wondered briefly if she should try and disguise herself as a boy, but discarded that notion almost immediately. She had no recourse to boy's clothing and her hair would give her away immediately. No she would go as herself, the Princess Ariadne, and if she were questioned she would act silly and simpering like the older girls did and say she only wanted to pet the horses. They would not refuse her so simple a request, nor would they ever expect her capable of saddling and bridling a horse by herself. Cretan noblewoman did not, as a rule, tax themselves with anything greater than what color clothes they were going to wear and what lines of poetry they would write to their suitors.

Ariadne cast one last guilty glance at the palace. Then she pushed the gate open and slipped through, uttering a prayer to Hermes as she did so. _Hermes, Master of Mischief and Trickery, veil my steps in shadow that I might pass unseen and win myself but a day of freedom._

The girl headed to the stable, her steps firm and unwavering. Several of the soldiers nodded to her as she passed, but no one asked her where she was going or why one of her handmaids was not with her. Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief and began to smile. The large wooden doors were just ahead, swung wide to admit the cooling sea breeze.

The child stepped across the threshold and felt a sudden breeze tug at her loose tresses, like a hand . A voice whispered laughingly in her ear, _Fear not little Ariadne, for I am with you._

Startled, she looked about for the source of the voice. She saw a tall, shadowy figure standing just to the inside of the door. The figure bowed and she caught a glimpse of twinkling gold eyes and a mocking smile. She knew then that this was Hermes, the Trickster God himself. _My thanks, Lord Hermes, _she whispered to herself, knowing that he would hear her.

Again she heard the whisper-soft laughter. _I should not do this, child, for I truly know better. Hera will scold for sure, but it is all in fun, is it not?_

Ariadne was surprised at the god's admission; wasn't even a god above censure? Apparently not. But it was not too serious, for even the Master of Shadows would not risk the Queen of Heaven's displeasure to help her. Then she shrugged, it was not for her to ponder the reasons why the immortals chose to involve themselves in the affairs of mortals. Though perhaps they did so because they, too, were bored.

Ariadne went boldly forward now, knowing that no mortal eyes would see through Hermes' shroud of deception. She skipped down the double row of stalls, the stone corridor glistening whitely under the thin leather of her sandals. The perfume of horses and golden hay and sunshine filled her nostrils, and Ariadne drank it in like wine.

Slowly she counted down the rows of stalls, each with its own nameplate in brass upon the door. Here were the king's chariot horses, Wind and Storm, a pair of flawless black geldings. There was a fine stallion whose coat gleamed moonsilver bright, the horse of Lyceus, a visiting prince. But last, and finest of all, to Ariadne at least, was the great chestnut with his mane and tale of pale gold—Zephyr, swift as the West Wind.

The horse snorted softly and poked his finely boned head over the door. Ariadne smiled. "Want to get out, don't you, boy?"

Quickly, she unhooked the bridle that hung to the right of the door and unlatched the door. She entered the stall, one hand extended for the horse to catch her scent so he would not startle and step on her with one of his quick hooves. Zephyr breathed gently on her hand and nickered. Then he shoved at her palm. Ariadne laughed. He was looking for apples, a special treat she usually brought him. "Not today, Zephyr," she told the big horse, drawing the leather bridle into place and tightening the straps about his head and ears.

Zephyr shifted restlessly, switching his long tail from side to side in impatience. He knew very well what the bridle meant. Ariadne patted the sleek chestnut coat and reached up on a wooden shelf to drag down the fleece saddle pad that her brother always used when exercising the stallion. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach it, but at last she got a good grip on it and down it came. Winding the reins about one hand, she led Zephyr out of the stall and to a square block of stone that stood in the middle of the wide corridor. The block was used to rest the chariot hitches on after the horses were unhooked from the traces, but Ariadne had seen the stableboys use it as a mounting block.

She climbed up on it and placed the saddle pad on the stallion's back. Then she tightened the strap around the horse's belly. Zephyr tossed his head and gave an excited neigh. "Shhh! Quiet, boy!" Ariadne hissed in warning. Though Hermes had given her protection, she did not know how long it would last and she did not want to take any chances. The capricious god was known to withdraw his favors without warning, usually at the most inopportune time.

Ariadne hopped down from the stone block and led Zephyr around the row of stalls and down to the right, where the stores of grain and hay were kept. In the torches' flicker she could just make out the shadowy entrance of the little-used passageway. "Come on, Zephyr," she coaxed and walked through the doorway.

They traveled for a short distance down a tunnel that was damp and chill and smelled faintly of sea mold. Zephyr's hooves echoed hollowly in the close passage, but he did not attempt to run away from her. Soon she saw the bright flare of sunlight up ahead and heard the soft hush of the waves against the rocky shoreline.

Eagerly, she stepped from the dark passage into the dazzling sunlight. The cliff wall rose high and sheer before her, but she caught a glimpse of the small rocky path Aegithros had spoken of, leading down to the sea. Zephyr tugged at the bridle, sensing as she did that it was time to run. Ariadne led him to a small rise and using it as a stepping stone, climbed up on Zephyr's back.

Nothing happened. _Well,_ Ariadne thought mockingly _what did I expect to happen? He was broken to a saddle and rider when I first learned to walk. _ She held the reins firmly and thumped her heels lightly against the stallion's sides. Zephyr shook his beautiful head and moved at once into a brisk walk, as smooth as water flowing.

Ariadne grinned. Oh, this was even better than she'd thought. For the first time in her memory she was free, free to do whatever she wanted, without her maids or Meliantha or her older brother along to watch out for her. She urged the horse to a gallop, and laughed in delight as the wind whipped her hair out behind her like a black banner.

The big horse ran easily, his strides quick and powerful, and Ariadne felt as though she was flying. She gripped the fleece pad firmly with her legs, not caring that her skirts were tucked up about her knees. Meliantha would be horrified, she thought in wicked amusement, if she could see her charge now, riding astride like an Amazon with her hair all tangled and blowing about her like a wild thing's.

Ariadne pulled gently on the reins, turning the horse to the right and slowing him. The trail was somewhat steep and she did not want Zephyr to injure himself on a sharp rock or be thrown from the saddle. If they went slowly and cautiously the trail would not be difficult to navigate. Zephyr did not like the way his hooves shifted and slipped under the wretchedly small stones, but he obeyed his rider's gentle prompting and started down the narrow path.

The girl stroked her horse's neck soothingly, she could feel the stallion's dislike as clearly as if he had spoken aloud to her. That surprised her, she had not thought her Gift extended to reading animals as well as humans. It could actually be useful, Ariadne realized, especially if an animal were frightened out of its head or hurt and needed to be calmed down so it could be helped. She wondered if she might be able to calm the animal with her Gift, by projecting gentle and calming thoughts at it. Could it work both ways?

Frowning, Ariadne imagined reaching out to the stallion, using her emotions like a rope stretching from her mind to the horse's. _Be easy, all is well,_ she reassured silently and projected the thought and the feelings behind it with all her strength down the link she had drawn with her mind.

Zephyr stopped, and a quiver raced through him. Then he resumed his walk, and this time Ariadne could feel that he was no longer uneasy about the small rocks that turned so suddenly beneath his hooves and made for unsteady footing. It worked, it actually worked! Her mind raced wildly, hundreds of ideas bursting in her head like soap bubbles. What if she could use this new aspect of her Gift to talk to other animals, and have them understand her and she them? Could it work on people as well? Could she, for instance, change Meliantha's mind into doing what she wished? But no, there was something not quite right about doing that. It made her feel slightly sick to think that she held such power over another person's private feelings. Even if she were able to, she knew that it would be wrong to play around with another's emotions in that way, as if the person were a clay doll she could reshape as she chose. _No, if I did that I would be no better than—than Minotauros who breaks things just because he feels like it. Only instead of breaking toys and furniture, I could break people. _ The thought horrified her. _No one should have such power over another! Only the gods have that right. . .Oh, Earth Lady, I swear by all that I hold dear that I will never use my Gift to hurt or twist another's mind to my will. _

They were halfway down the trail now, Ariadne could see the white crests of the waves and the sparkling whiteness of the sand on the beach. Zephyr saw it also, and he quickened his pace.

Then it happened.

A stone flew through the air and struck Zephyr on the flank. The horse neighed in pain and spun around in fear, his hooves slipping precariously on the rocks. Ariadne had no time to discover where the rock had come from, all she felt was the horse's panic and fear. The horse's sudden movement threw her onto his neck and the reins fell from her hands.

The flapping leather strap struck the nervous horse on the leg, and thoroughly startled by now, Zephyr bolted. Ariadne, almost thrown out of the saddle by the horse's sudden lunge, had no time to regain her seat. Zephyr threw up his head and began to run. The quick motion caught the girl totally unawares and she was flung backwards over Zephyr's tail.

She made one desperate grab for the stallion's tail, but her fingers clutched only empty air. Then the earth came up to meet her with startling quickness and she knew nothing more save blackness for a long, long time.

* * * * * *

When she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was the fresco of dolphins and bull leapers that were painted on the walls of her room. Her first thought was that someone had found her, and her second was for Zephyr. The poor animal had been frightened out of his wits, she remembered that quite clearly. Someone had thrown a stone at him and startled him, though why anyone would do that was beyond her.

She blinked and squinted against the glow of the lamps. Her head felt thick and her tongue fuzzy. _What happened to me? Did I hit my head?_ She tried to sit up, and flinched at the sudden sharp ache in the back of her neck. Just then, her handmaid Aglaia woke from where she had been dozing and rushed out of the room, crying, "Oh, my lord, come quickly! She's awake!"

Before Ariadne could wonder to whom Aglaia was talking to, Meliantha came bustling in. "How do you feel, my lady?" she asked, gently touching Ariadne on the head.

"My head still hurts," Ariadne answered.

"You had a terrible fall. We thought you might never wake up." Tears gathered at the corners of the woman's eyes. Ariadne wondered at that; she and Meliantha had never been close and she could sense no true grief in the woman's heart.

"How did you find me?"

"I didn't. Your brother did."

"Aegithros?"

"No. Minotauros it was. He saw your white dress on the rocks and went down to see what it could be. As soon as he knew it was you, he ran and got help."

Ariadne frowned. Minotauros! The tale almost sounded too fantastic to be true. Minotauros rarely went by the sea, he hated the water. And she hardly thought it likely that if he had found her lying there he would have any care for her well-being. If anything he'd be more likely to dance for joy that she was hurt than to run for help; her brother cared for only one person—himself.

Before she could puzzle out the rest of the mystery surrounding her rescue, Aegithros came in, pale and rumpled as if he'd slept in his tunic all night. "Ariadne! How are you feeling?"

"My head aches a bit, but I think other than that I'm fine."

"Thank the Mother!" He came and sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his. "I thought that damned horse had killed you!" She was astonished to see tears gather in his eyes; unlike Meliantha's these were real.

"Where is Zephyr?" she asked, concerned for the big stallion.

"He's fine." Aegithros answered. Then he looked at her and burst out angrily, "You little fool! Who gave you permission to ride him? If you'd hit your head a little lower down, you might have . . ." he trailed off meaningfully.

Ariadne shrank back in alarm. Her brother had never been so angry with her before. His hazel eyes were nearly gold with the heat of his fury. "I-I'm sorry, Aegithros. I didn't think you'd mind if I rode him. We were just fine until the rock hit him. He didn't mean to throw me, he was scared. It wasn't his fault! Please, don't hurt him!" she whispered and burst into tears.

"Don't cry, Ariadne! Hush, little one," her brother murmured, and he drew her into his arms. "You'll make your head hurt worse. I won't hurt him, Bright Eyes, I promise. I'm not angry any more, only. . . Ariadne, I was afraid. It would have killed me to lose you." He held her close, rocking her in his arms.

At last she stopped crying and he set her back on the bed. "You'll be all right in a few days. Just get some rest."

"Does Father know?"

Her brother laughed at her worried frown. "He knows you were hurt in a fall, but he doesn't know that you were riding my horse." He scowled at her and said sternly, "If you ever frighten me that way again, I'll—I'll turn you over my knee and paddle you until you won't be able to sit down for a week. Understand?"

Wide-eyed, she said, "Yes, my lord. I promise."

His expression softened and he bent and kissed her on the forehead. "Be a good girl, and take your medicine. I love you, Ariadne." Then he left, returning to his own chamber.

He hadn't mentioned anything about Minotauros finding her, but she knew that Meliantha hadn't lied._ How did he know I was down there, anyway? I was under Hermes' protection, no one saw me enter the stable and I know I wasn't followed. How could he know, unless. . ._

She felt suddenly cold and then she Saw Minotauros crouched behind a lip of rock, smirking hatefully. He picked up a stone from the ground and stood, casting it through the air . . .to hit Zephyr on the flank and make him bolt. Her stomach churned and for a moment she feared she would be sick . He had wanted her to get hurt. He had done that on purpose, hoping she would fall off. She knew that it had happened just as she'd Seen. And when he saw her helpless, he had probably laughed with delight and gone to tell Meliantha, hoping to get her in trouble. But no one would believe her if she told them that her fall hadn't been an accident. They'd say she was being spiteful, trying to shift the blame to her half-brother when she was the cause of her own suffering.

Even Aegithros thought it was her fault. No, she could tell no one what her Gift had shown her. But from now on, she would be wary and careful. She must never go anywhere with Minotauros alone. He was crazed and jealous because one day she would hold more power than he; the bastard son of Pasiphae and a Scythian bull leaper, he could never rise higher than a prince, never be counted for anything except another pair of hands to wield a sword. But one day Ariadne would be Queen of Knossos, and it was for that he hated her most of all.

**Thanks to SapphireWarrioress and Pandora for reviewing this! I really appreciate it and hope you continue to R & R and tell anyone else who might be interested to check this out! **


	4. Chapter 3

A FEW SEASONS AFTER Ariadne's disastrous adventure with Zephyr, her half-brother Minotauros went on one of his rampages and nearly beat to death a servant; those that witnessed it claimed that the prince had lost his temper because the man was slow in bringing him his shield and sword. The palace physicians thought it unlikely that the man would ever walk again, so crippling were his injuries. Aegithros, who loathed bullies like the plague, was all for dealing out the same treatment to Minotauros, but Minos forbade it, saying that it would not be proper for his heir to squabble with his brother over a servant.

"A servant!" Aegithros growled, pacing up and down in the courtyard. Ariadne, watching him, was reminded of a lion they had once captured for the royal menagerie, lashing its tail and snarling because it could not have its freedom. She felt as sorry for her brother now as she had for the lion. "The man did nothing to deserve such treatment! That damned brat ought to be locked up somewhere like the mad beast he is."

Ariadne agreed. "It's a pity we cannot do just that. But surely Father will punish him."

Aegithros snorted. "Oh, Father will take away his sword and armor for a few days and bid him stay in his apartments until his temper cools. Nothing like what he deserves. Mark me well, little sister, if Father does not check him now, while he still is able, then the brat will be well-nigh uncontrollable when he is a man." He shook his head, his mouth curled in disgust. "My words fall upon deaf ears; better to not even speak them. Though I swear, Ariadne, if Minotauros ever does such again in _my_ presence, he'll get the thrashing of his life and Father may do what he likes to me afterward. The House of Minos should be ruled by men, not mad children."

Privately, Ariadne thought it better if Minotauros had never been born. Now that she was approaching ten years of age, Aglaia and the other house women had decided that it was time for her to learn the womanly arts of spinning and weaving. Ariadne did not like it, and she couldn't see what possible difference it could make if she could spin a thread well or weave cloth; there were many women in the palace who were far more adept than she was and who enjoyed it besides. The only advantage Ariadne could see was that it made her hands move quicker and she learned patience, if nothing else. Often she found it easier to concentrate on her spinning if she visited Cleate; the old woman seemed to have a calming effect on her and she could talk as well as spin, which made the time go by faster.

So Ariadne gathered her distaff and skein of blue-dyed wool and went over to Daedelus's apartments in the left wing of the palace. Cleate had been moved there soon after Ariadne had told Aegithros that she feared the old woman was not being taken care of properly by her mother's maids. Daedelus was delighted to have company and now that she was appreciated, Cleate was livelier and her mind did not wander so much.

The gray-haired old woman smiled when Ariadne entered. "Come in, child. I have missed you these two days. Now I know why. Aglaia has been teaching you her weaver's art." She gave a dry chuckle. "Sit by me, child, and tell me what has happened in the palace. I heard a great commotion in the hall last night."

Obediently, Ariadne sat on the small cushion and began twirling her distaff. She told Cleate all that had occurred, her anger growing as she did so, until she burst out hotly, "Why is Minotauros allowed to get away with such disgraceful behavior? He may be a bully but he's not stupid, and he's old enough to know better. Father is King and High Priest of Poseidon, he should send him away to be fostered some place where they will not put up with his temper. Why doesn't he do something?"

"Perhaps because he cannot." Cleate replied quietly, her brown eyes sorrowful.

"I don't understand."

"Minos may be Priest-King of Knossos, but he is not all powerful. He is bound by the oaths he swore long ago when Pasiphae made him her consort. He cannot kill nor set your half-brother aside because your mother acknowledged him as hers before the Goddess. Minotauros is of the sacred lineage of Crete, and if Minos dared to kill or set aside Pasiphae's child, the gods would rise up in anger and destroy him."

Ariadne felt a cold fear stab her in the back. _ Someday the gods _**will**_ rise in anger against us, and it will not be my father who stirs them to vengeance._ "Why did my mother ever consent to bear him? He is a monster! How could she even recognize him as her son?" Ariadne demanded.

Cleate patted her arm and said quietly, "In vain did I plead with Pasiphae not to go with that Scythian barbarian. But she would not heed me, her closest advisor. Cyprian Aphrodite had set her hand upon my Queen, and she was powerless to resist. Your mother insisted that the House needed new blood to strengthen it. Better that all of it were spilled upon the altars of the gods than to mix it with such savagery! Now we reap the results of her actions. Well did I say that she would rue the day she set eyes on that bull leaper!"

She was silent for a moment, and then she said in a softer tone, "Few remember now that she named him Asterion at his birth._ Starry One_ it means, and ill-starred and ill-fated he was from the moment he drew breath. Like the long-tailed comet that flashes across the heavens, he portends disaster and doom for the House of Minos."

For a moment Ariadne felt as if she could see the shadow of doom creeping inexorably across the land, turning all it touched to dust. Panic rose in her like the dark waters of the spring flood tide, until she feared it would drown her. But she managed to hold it in check by a single thought. Minos was growing old, he would not rule forever. And when Aegithros came to the throne he would deal with Minotauros as he saw fit.

She was not aware that she had spoken aloud until Cleate replied, "Look not to Aegithros to save Knossos from her fate. He will not live long enough to wear the Serpent Crown."

"What do you mean?" Ariadne sprang to her feet, feeling deep within her that the old woman had spoken prophecy. "Don't you dare ill-wish my brother, old woman!"

Cleate looked at her, and for the first time Ariadne saw the strength in the old woman, strength which had carried her through the tumultuous reign of one queen and which sustained Cleate still, and her anger died before it. "I wish no one ill, daughter of Pasiphae. I but speak the truth the Goddess has given me to say. The ways of the immortals are not for us to question."

"The Bright Lady has given you the Gift, too?"

"Even as she has you, my Lady. I love your brother Aegithros well, but I know that Minotauros will not be brought to bay by him. That task the gods have given to another."

"Who?"

"I know not. Only that you will have a hand in it. It is your destiny to protect your people and the one who will deliver them from Minotauros's evil. The Goddess has set her hand on you, Ariadne, and for good or ill you hold Knossos's fate in your hands. The Bull and the Stallion shall meet, but the Falcon will determine who lives!"

Not long after Cleate's prophetic speech Minos took sick in the chest with a cold, and the physicians said the only cure was for him to remain completely isolated and not get excited, because such would bring on the choking fits and loss of breath; so he began to leave much of the affairs of governing in Aegithros's hands.

That summer Aegithros bred Zephyr to a fine mare gotten as tribute from the Thracians, who raise horses on the great plains that are as swift as the North Wind. The colt from that mating was as dazzling as a summer star and twice as fast. Aegithros gave the colt to Ariadne as a birthday gift, and to his sister's delight, began giving her riding lessons as well. "So we won't have a repeat of that accident on Zephyr," he reminded gently.

Ariadne called her red colt Arion, and from dawn till midafternoon she rode the horse along the beach and through the emerald valleys of Crete. Meliantha often despaired that her charge would ever learn to be a properly modest Cretan lady, and said so twice as often. But it wasn't Meliantha's scoldings that brought the girl back into the woman's quarters, it was her younger sister, Phaedra, whom Ariadne hadn't paid much attention to until now.

Now Phaedra was crawling and, as all babies do, getting into mischief. She was a round, roly-poly baby with big blue eyes and a light brown mop of fuzzy curls who was forever laughing and gurgling. Ariadne first noticed her when she pulled down an entire tray of cosmetics on Meliantha's lap. Small jars of kohl and cream and berry juice cascaded on to the screaming woman's skirt; Phaedra, the cause of it all, sat laughing at the sight of staid Meliantha wailing because her new skirt and bodice were ruined. Ariadne, too, had to smother her own giggles with a hand clamped over her mouth, lest Meliantha's pride be damaged further. From that day forth, Ariadne ceased to look upon her little sister as a nuisance; now she made it a point to spend several hours a day with Phaedra, playing with her and dressing her and singing little songs that she remembered Pasiphae singing to her when she was that age.

Phaedra, engaging little creature that she was, adored Ariadne; for the first time Ariadne felt the same sense of protectiveness and responsibility for her sister that Aegithros felt for her. It made her feel strangely adult now that she had a younger sibling who looked up to her. For Phaedra's sake she allowed Meliantha to persuade her into wearing the seven-flounced skirts and short bodices that the Cretan ladies wore (which hampered her riding), so her little sister would know how to dress properly. She even allowed Meliantha to paint her face with henna and kohl, so that she could teach Phaedra how when she was old enough. (Normally Ariadne refused to put cosmetics on her face because it made her look like a doll to be played with instead of a live human being).

Soon Phaedra was walking and talking and Ariadne, now twelve, knew by certain changes within her body that she would be accounted a woman that summer. It would mark the end of her days as a carefree princess and the beginning of her duties as a priestess-initiate to the Earth Mother Dia. It was a state that Ariadne was both reluctant and eager to enter. She wished for it because it meant that she would be able to take charge of her own life and not be held accountable to Meliantha for everything, but she also knew that her duties would keep her from riding Arion and visiting Phaedra and Aegithros as often as she wished. But she knew that her beginning as an initiate into the Goddess's Mysteries was the first step on the road that would end with becoming Priestess-Queen of Knossos. _And once I am there I will make certain that Minotauros is kept in check, so my people need never fear for their lives again._

A fortnight later Thebe, under-priestess of the Earth Mother, came to her and asked without preamble if Ariadne had started her monthly courses yet. Ariadne was tempted to be flip with the angular woman and act like she didn't know what Thebe referred to, because she still harbored resentment towards the woman for speaking about Cleate like she was no more than an old dog who has outlived its usefulness. She decided that irritating the under-priestess wasn't worth her time and so she answered, "Yes. Am I to be initiated now?"

Thebe gave a short nod. "Come with me, my Lady."

Ariadne followed, trying hard to keep to the sedate pace the under-priestess set and not break into a run. Her blood coursed through her like strong wine, curiosity made her head hum like a hive of bees. Thebe led her through the corridors of the palace and out a side door. They walked for a short distance down a narrow winding path and then Thebe climbed over a low stone wall.

They were still within the confines of Knossos, but this part of the sprawling palace was unfamiliar to Ariadne. These low, twisting corridors were built ages ago, by the orginal island people, those who had inhabited the palace before Ariadne's ancestors had sailed the seas to Crete. Daedelus had told her that some unforseen disaster had overcome these people, most likely a great earthquake, and their mighty city had toppled, leaving only these ruins and winding passages as a reminder that they had existed. The Minoans had built upon and added to the palace and called this maze of tunnels and half-forgotten rooms the Laberynth. It was rumored that no one living had ever memorized all the passages of the Maze, though Ariadne believed that Daedelus knew more about the tunnels than he let on. _Someday I must ask him what he knows, for if any can unravel the Maze, it is he. _ Somewhere below her she heard a deep bass roar, almost like the sea. She started sharply at the unfamiliar sound. Thebe cast an amused glance at her and said, "Don't be frightened, child. It's only the bulls calling to Poseidon from the bull pen."

The older woman paused and removed a pitch-dipped torch from her belt and lit it. Ariadne followed her across the stone courtyard to another building, tall and imposing. In the torch's flicker Ariadne saw the two massive double-headed axes that flanked either side of the entry. Suddenly Ariadne knew where she was. Thebe had brought her to the Hall of the Double Axe. The Hall was where the Priest-Kings had once sacrificed the fine white bulls to the Sea King. They had used the huge double-bladed labrys to cut the neck of the bull with one stroke. Now, though, Poseidon had declared that sacrifices were to be given in a different manner. The bulls were bred now for the arena and the sacrifice was enacted by the bull leapers that played with death for the honor of the god. The bull- leapers were the slaves and captives gotten as tribute. They lived in the Bull Court, amidst the many winding corridors and secret rooms that composed the Maze.

Ariadne had heard of the great prowess and honor the bull leapers gained in the arena, but she had never seen a performance. She wondered if she would be able to watch now that she was a priestess-initiate. Both men and woman could be bull leapers. Suddenly she remembered Cleate speaking of her mother. _In vain did I plead with her not to go to that Scythian bull leaper. _ Minotauros's father had been a bull leaper. Dedicated to Poseidon, he had nonetheless dared the god's wrath by sleeping with the High-Priestess of the Earth Mother. And thus he was punished by siring a monster.

A bull bellowed again. For a moment Ariadne felt she could hear the sadness in the animal's tone. These bulls were sacred to Poseidon, and yet they were kept in small pens underground and they rarely saw the sky and sun, except when they were brought out to dance with the bull- leapers. She wondered why this treatment did not anger Poseidon, who valued freedom and wildness above all things. It seemed wrong somehow, to keep such magnificence locked away and played with for sport.

Why had Thebe brought her here? She was not a sacrifice to Poseidon, she was a priestess-initiate of Mother Dia. Why was she not in the Mother's temple? Thebe stepped up to the great door and turned the heavy brass handle.

The door moved back slowly. "Come, child," the priestess commanded and slipped through the entryway. Ariadne paused, her eyes resting for a moment on the huge labrys. For a moment she Saw the great axe lifted up and swung at a large male form, who screamed in hatred and challenge. Ariadne felt her mind whirl with primal fear and triumph.

Then she was back within herself again. White-lipped, the girl quickened her steps and was soon abreast of Thebe. "Why are we in the Hall of the Double Axe?"

"One of the most holy precincts of the Goddess is here. It is where we always bring our initiates. Nowhere else on Knossos is the presence of the Mother felt so strongly as here, in this temple."

For long moments Ariadne said nothing more, preoccupied with memorizing the complicated twistings of the corridors. Thebe paused on the threshold of a large chamber. Ariadne caught the bright gleam of a fire on the far side of the chamber.

Before her in the middle of the chamber was the Goddess.

Ariadne almost knelt in worship before she realized that the tall imposing figure was merely a marble statue, life-size and painted to resemble a real woman. She very nearly giggled aloud. The tall statue was garbed in real clothing of the finest silk and linen, a fine pleated skirt of deep green and a gilded belt studded with precious gems. The Goddess-statue wore a heavy gold chain with a single sheaf of wheat around her neck. Her breasts were naked, so that all might know She was the Giver and Sustainer of all Life. Her hair was tightly curled in front but cascaded down her shoulders in golden waves. She wore a seemingly gentle and yet stern expression on her face.

Beyond the statue was a large stone altar with the ritual offerings of grain and fruit and wine. The Earth Mother did not require animal sacrifice; she alone of all the gods of Olympus frowned on the needless shedding of blood. A fire blazed brightly in the great hearth.

Several women garbed in the green and white robes of the Mother came forward. One bowed to Thebe and then approached Ariadne. She smiled and said, "Welcome, Most Holy One, to the temple of She Who Gives Life. I am Elaisia."

Ariadne nodded. Softly the woman bade her strip off her gown and bodice and bathe in the round tub that steamed before the fire. Ariadne obeyed, finding the tub pleasantly scented with rose petals and honeysuckle. The other two women carefully washed her hair and scrubbed her till she glistened. Then they bade her stand while Elaisia laved a bucket of cool water onto her head. Ariadne tried not to flinch. Elaisia intoned softly,"Thus you are washed clean of your old life. You are reborn anew in the sight of the Mother."

The other women helped Ariadne out of the bath and dried her and carefully combed out her long hair. She was given a plain white robe to wear in place of her dress and bodice; it was a sign that she was now an initiate of the Goddess and thus a maiden, pure and untouched.

Then Elaisia came and cut off a lock of her hair with a sharp-bladed bronze knife. She laid the lone black lock on a copper plate along with some strange herbs and bade Ariadne cast them onto the brazier smoking before the altar.

When she did so, Elaisia said, "Accept this woman, Mother, as your priestess. She has thus dedicated her body to you and so is bound."

Ariadne was handed a heavy goblet carved with scenes of the harvest. "Pour some out upon the brazier. Then answer the questions asked you."

She poured the sweet-smelling fruity wine onto the brazier. The brazier glowed and the heady essence of fruit wine permeated the chamber. "Do you, Ariadne, daughter of Pasiphae, swear to serve the Mother of All as her Voice and Hand?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to always protect what is hers and the rights of all who dwell in her sanctuary?"

"I swear."

"Lastly, do you swear never to raise a weapon in anger, to kill, save only in defense of your life or your sister priestesses?"

"I swear."

"Drink then, of her sacred chalice, Ariadne, Most Holy Daughter of the Mother."

Ariadne put the cup to her lips. The wine was smooth and cool as spring rain on her tongue. She savored the fruity taste. Then she swallowed. It was as if she tasted not wine, but the liquid nectar that was said to be the drink of the immortals. A strange golden fire was growing in her, she felt its heat but it did not hurt. There was no longer any altar before her, but instead a great green field.

Ariadne stepped out on the fragrant grasses and it was as if her feet treaded on the finest velvet carpet. Laughing, she ran across the field, and wherever she stepped a flower grew up. Suddenly she was no longer alone. On the other side of the field stood tall waving stalks of grain, gold as the sun. And standing before them was the warm, glowing presence of the Earth Mother.

She held out her arms and Ariadne ran into them. The touch of the Goddess was bright and gentle as sunlight and Ariadne felt utterly at peace and filled with a joy so great that she wept.

"I have waited long for you, child," the Mother said. Her voice was as deep and rich as the earth itself. "Will you be my priestess, Ariadne?"

Ariadne looked up into the Goddess's brilliant eyes—eyes that glittered like stars, and opened her mouth to reply.

"Wait—before you answer. I would have you willing, but first you must know that my service may be long and filled with hardship. There are dark times ahead for you, little one. There is one among you who has renounced me and serves himself alone. For that he must be punished. He intends harm to me and all that I stand for. I cannot intercede directly. Will you be my champion, little one? Will you stand fast against he who would destroy the earth and all that lives upon it and make slaves of my people? It will be hard and many you love will die before your task is done. You may lose one closest to you for a time. I ask again, Ariadne, little falcon, do you pledge to honor me and all that I stand for? Will you take up my mantle and be my priestess, knowing the cost required?"

"I will, Mother!"

The Goddess smiled and stroked her cheek. "Accept then my Gift, child, to give life to the earth."

Green light pulsed through her like a roaring river, overwhelming her. Ariadne opened her mouth to scream, for she was drowning in fire and water, borne away on a rising tide of power. She felt the light tear through her and for one moment there was an excruciating jolt as if all of her bones had been ground to dust and then she was floating in a soothing wave of warmth and sea-green light.

From far away she heard the Goddess whisper,_"Remember, Ariadne, you are my Chosen. . . ._"

* * * * * *

She stood on the edge of the dock, her hands fisted into her linen robe to keep from snatching at her brother's cloak and clinging to him, begging him not to leave her. In the two years since the Mother had called her to serve, she had seen him but a handful of times. Now Aegithros was being sent along with an escort of ten men to the Athenian Games, held to honor Poseidon.

Aegithros stood upon the dock, his tall frame turned gold from the sun, lithe and sleek as a sea otter. His eyes were bright with promise. The ship was already set to sail. The wind blew from the east, cold with the promise of winter. Or death. Ariadne shuddered. The last time the Sight had visited her, she had seen her brother stretched out upon the ground, still and lifeless with a great spear wound in his chest.

She knew with a sickening feeling that the vision had been true. If he went on this voyage to Athens he would not return. She knew it as well as she knew her own name. But she also knew she could not stop him. Not that she hadn't tried. She had told him of the vision, but he had chosen to ignore the warning. He had said that it was his fate to die in battle, as the gods willed, it would be an honorable death.

She wanted to scream, to weep, to call him a fool a thousand times over. What did honor matter when your kingdom needed you whole? To her, it seemed that men valued honor more than gold, more than life itself.

_Life is the most precious gift of all._

_ Without life men are nothing. _

_ What use is honor without joy, or passion, or life to live as you choose?_

Ask a man that question and she would be met with a blank look. Or worse, scorn and a comment that women could never understand honor. Which, she thought acidly, was not true. Pride she understood and honor also. But pride in place of common sense and practicality she would never understand.

Aegithros turned to her and embraced her. "Farewell, Ariadne. I will win many fine prizes at the Games. Will you bid me good luck?"

She wanted to beg him not to go. _Only death awaits you. Not honor. Only the grave. Stay. Stay with me. _"May the Mother go with you. And may you come safely back to me."

In spite of herself, two tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped them away before he could see.

"I will be back before you know it," he laughed.

_No, you won't. Not ever again. _Despair crept upon her and wreathed her in a cloak of unending darkness. _When next I see you it will be on your funeral pyre. First Cleate, now you. Am I always to remain alone, to watch all whom I care for wither and die?_

She hugged him tightly and whispered, "Farewell, Aegithros. I love you, my brother."

"I love you too, little sister." He kissed her lightly on the cheek, then turned and leaped lightly onto the deck of the ship.

Ariadne watched him until he was out of sight, knowing it was the last time she would ever see her brother alive. Tears blurred her vision, causing her brother to fade and flicker like a phantom of the Underworld. _Farewell, my brother. You will live forever in my memory. _

She turned to make her way back toward the temple of the Mother.

_Now I am truly alone. _

**This was a bittersweet chapter, but now her role as Priestess of Knossos has been established. **

**Next: Theseus, prince of Athens discovers the price his people pay as tribute to King Minos.**


	5. Chapter 4

THE GULLS SHRIEKED AND dived gracefully above the sea, their mournful cry echoing sharply in the calm air. Theseus, son of Aegeus, prince of Athens, watched the gulls' flight and knew that something ill was in the wind. His aquamarine eyes, which seemed to contain all the varied shades of the sea, turned now to the white-tossed water. The sea was unusually restive today, he observed. The Sea King stirs in his bed of seaweed, seeking comfort. Or was it confirmation of a vow made long ago?

Theseus narrowed his eyes as if mere will alone could enable him to see through the depths and into the kingdom of the immortal that he had sworn long ago to serve. But his eyes, though far-seeing, were only mortal. The waves soft crash and hiss against the rocky shoals told him only that the Sea King was restless. It was not the angry rumble that foretold the god's wrath was about to be unleashed on foolish mortals, _that_ he would have sensed with his Gift. This was not the same. . .

A cold nose was thrust into his hand. Theseus looked down and his eyes met those of his favorite hound.

"Where have you been these past days, Argo?" he asked, shaking a finger reprovingly at the great white dog, whose head was level with his sword belt..

The dog met the query with a yawn that displayed teeth the size of a child's little finger. The hound glanced at his master from far-seeing amber eyes that showed not one bit of chagrin at being absent for so long. Theseus laughed and stroked the dog's head, ruffling the sleek fur. "You've been hunting and having a wonderful time while I've been mewed up in the hall listening to petitions. Lazy hound! Do you have any idea how boring it is to have to sit there and listen to people complain about whose cow or goat got into their garden and ate up their supply of green vegetables?"

The hound said nothing, but regarded his master's statement with faint reproach.

"Yes, I know, a prince must learn to judge fairly and impartially with his people, but if they would only learn to rely on the good sense they were born with instead of running to the king every time a cow strays from her pasture would save everyone a great deal of time and trouble._"_

_ And me a great deal of aggravation._

It was a good thing that Aegeus was strong and healthy, despite his advancing years. The dreary day to day business of administering and dispensing justice would not fall entirely on Theseus's shoulders for a long time. _May Poseidon grant him a long life. I am not quite ready to be a king just yet._

Argo whined and mouthed the hem of his cloak, tugging at it.

"Want to hunt, don't you?" his master grinned. "Why don't we go find Amnerion and ask him to join us? Besides, I left my bow back at the hall."

At the familiar word 'hunt', Argo's head came up. The long-legged fleethound turned and trotted back up the beach toward the castle. Theseus gave one last glance at the wind-tossed waves, the quiet sound gradually soothing away the unease slowly stirring in him. Argo barked sharply.

"All right, all right. I'm coming." He followed the hound up to the tall stone keep that sat perched on a high, craggy shelf of rock. It was that which had kept the citadel from being overrun by the many invading tribes which had swept down from the great Sea of Grass into the fertile isthmus that was Aechaea. From time out of mind, Theseus's ancestors had held the city and keep of Athens because of the Rock it was built upon.

Theseus entered the long great hall and picked up his ivory inlaid war bow from the rack of others. The bow he had received as part of the spoils of a barbarian chief called Procrustes, whom Theseus had slain in a challenge combat. The bandit had a reputation of inviting travelers to spend the night at his home and sleep in his great bed; once they were sleeping, he robbed them of all they owned and hacked them to pieces. Theseus had very nearly succumbed to the bandit's trap, would have if he had drunk the drugged wine his host had set before him. But some sixth sense had warned him that all was not as it seemed. Instead of drinking deeply of the ruby liquid, he had taken small sips, enough to fool Procrustes into thinking that the drug had taken effect. The point of Theseus's sword had soon taught the bandit a lesson in the laws of hospitality.

Along with the bow, Theseus had appropriated a white leather quiver inset with silver dolphins. He slung the quiver across one shoulder and prepared to search the keep for Amnerion, the youthful captain of his father's hearthguard and his best friend.

That was when he noticed that nearly all of the guardsmen his age were strangely absent.

Beckoning a passing servant, Theseus inquired about the missing men. "Why they be down in the market place, young master," the servant replied, bowing.

"The market place?"

"Aye, for the lottery. 'Tis held every four seasons."

Theseus was confused. He had never heard of any lottery that required the presence of all the young men of Athens to attend it. Suddenly he remembered a day when his grandfather had forbidden him to go among the merchants at the harbor in Troizen. He had been thirteen and a Cretan ship had just put in at the harbor. "You're to stay here today, boy. You've the exact build those pirates are looking for."

His grandfather had refused to say anything more, and Theseus had not wanted to risk the old man's temper by inquiring into the matter. But now he knew what his grandfather had meant. The Cretan soldiers had been there to collect one thing, and one thing only.

Tribute.

Paid with human flesh.

Theseus snarled a string of oaths that made the servant turn pale and started for the market place at a dead run, the fleethound at his heels.

He found Amnerion almost immediately, standing amid a group of youths aged nineteen down to twelve, all wiry and slight in stature. "Amnerion! What goes on here?"

The young Captain turned at Theseus's shout. "It is the lottery. But surely you are exempt. You are the son of a king, who has gold enough to pay in exchange for your body."

Theseus frowned at the implication, but chose to let the remark go for now. "This lottery, it is offered to the Cretans every four years, is it not?"

Amnerion nodded, his dark eyes solemn. "All able-bodied young men and maids must put their names in. Fourteen names are drawn out, seven men and seven maids. They are then pledged to serve Minos as sacrifices to Poseidon in the Laberynth. It has been so since the death of Minos's heir Aegithros at the Spring Games some six years past."

"My father, he does nothing to prevent this—this slave trade?" Theseus demanded, his face taut with anger.

"He cannot, Theseus. It was one of his nobles who cast the spear that killed Aegithros. It was pure jealousy, for the Cretan prince had bested him at the javelin throwing. Minos has the right to declare blood feud. He chose this way to avenge the slight done to his House and his honor."

Theseus nodded. He had heard the story of Aegithros's death, it had been one of the most heated topics of discussion up and down the isthmus, reaching even the isolated island of Troizen where he had spent his boyhood under the watchful eye of his grandfather, Lord Pittheus.

"Your name is in the lottery?"

"Yes."

"Why was I never told of this? I have been here a year and yet not once has my father mentioned this lottery." A muscle in the warrior's jaw twitched.

He looked toward the steps of the Acropolis, where a herald had appeared wearing the blue and red of the royal house of the Erechthids. Beside the herald stood a priest wearing the blue-green robes of Poseidon. A hush descended on the crowd. Aegeus came forward, wearing the heavy gold-embroidered robes of state, his graying beard neatly trimmed and his hair held by a golden fillet. In his hands he bore the sacred gold bowl of Poseidon, engraved with pictures of dolphins, horses, ships and all manner of creatures sacred to the god.

He held up a hand and the crowd stilled. "My people. The time of tribute is at hand again. In deference to Poseidon, who holds our lives in his keeping, I dedicate the youths and maids of Athens. May you go forth under the protection of the Father of Waves."

He handed the bowl to the priest who took it reverently and began to place inside it shards of pottery with the names of all the eligible youths and maids of Athens, from twelve to nineteen.

Theseus stared at the king, and remembered Amnerion's words. _You are the son of a king. Your father has enough gold to pay for your tribute, so you need not participate in the lottery._

Aegeus's eyes fell on his son, who was the only one among the youths carrying arms. Theseus had quite forgotten the bow slung over his shoulder. Their eyes met. Aegeus motioned for his son to approach.

Theseus came up the steps, his aquamarine eyes boiling like the sea in a storm, every muscle in his body taut with rebellion. Before he could speak, the king said, "What do you do here, my son? I thought you away, hunting the hills with Argo."

Theseus ignored the question. "Is my name entered in the drawing with the others?"

Aegeus stared. "You don't need to—"

"Why not?" Theseus interrupted, his voice laced with barely controlled fury. "Because I am a rich man's son? A prince must not ask his people to endure anything he would not endure himself. Do you remember those words, Father?"

An angry flush crept up the king's jaw. "Don't be impertinent, boy. This is no game we play here!"

"Is it not? You offer up the lives of your subjects as blood price at no risk to your own House. Is this the behavior of an honorable man? To play with people's lives as if they were but pieces on a chess board?"

"It is the price Minos demanded of me. If I denied it, there would be war. But this much I will have: my son to rule after me." There was challenge in the king's eyes now, the ages old challenge of the alpha wolf to the young wolf who threatens his authority.

Theseus did not back away. To do so would be to submit, and he was not ready to give up just yet. "I would participate in the lottery. It is my right as a citizen of Athens. Not even a king's son is above the law. Or the will of the gods."

"This is madness!"

"No, Father. It is justice. I put myself above no man. These are my people and I will share their fate." Theseus laid the bow and quiver on the ground.

Aegeus would have argued further, but one look at his son's eyes, hard as jade, told him it would do no good. He addressed the crowd. "People of Athens, my son has stated his desire to be counted among you at this choosing. He, like all of you, puts himself in the hand of Poseidon, to be called at the will of the god."

The crowd exploded into shocked murmurs. Aegeus took a shard from the priest and scratched upon it with a stylus. Then he dropped it into the bowl. Theseus walked down the steps to stand next to Amnerion and the other young men of his father's hearthguard.

Amnerion placed a fist to his chest, the salute of a commander to his king. "My honor is yours, my lord."

"No. I am the keeper of no man's honor. Here I am no longer a king's son but a suppliant of Poseidon."

Argo whined softly. Theseus looked down at the brave hound, veteran of a hundred hunts. He almost ordered the animal from his side, but at the last moment his heart failed him. He would not see the hound for a long time, perhaps forever, if he were chosen. There was no need to send the animal away before it was time. The fleethound, sensing its master's distress, pressed close to Theseus's legs, growling softly.

"Argo!" Theseus reprimanded sharply.

The hound ceased growling, but remained alert as if for a battle.

The priest set the bowl on a tripod and began stirring the lots with a bronze baton. Theseus drew a sharp breath. It seemed as though he could hear the roar of the sea pounding in his ears, though he was many miles from shore. _I consent to your will, Poseidon._

The king motioned for the priest to stop stirring. The priest reached in and withdrew a shard. He handed it to the herald. The herald called out the name of a young maid with red hair.

Almost instantaneously, the girl's mother and sisters burst out into wails and shrieks of grief, mourning her as one dead. The girl went deathly pale, but she stepped away from the clutching hands and stepped out upon the dock where the Cretan noble stood.

The man leered at the girl, who averted her eyes at the sight of a half naked man. The Cretan noble wore only a tooled and brightly colored loincloth. His upper body was bare save for the heavy gold chains and arm bands of his office. He had been oiled until he glistened and his long hair had been curled and left to hang down his back, not short like an Athenian warrior's.

He looked like nothing so much as a painted doll, Theseus thought with a sneer. And this was the manner of man who ruled one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world? _ I could snap him in half with one blow of my fist, the strutting peacock!_

Another name was announced, this time of a girl barely out of childhood. Theseus felt anger surge in him like a tidal flood. _This is no sacrifice to Poseidon, but a travesty. The gods do not demand human blood. _The girl's father or older brother was springing forward, challenging the Cretans. The king's guards came forward and wrestled his arms behind his back. Impotent tears of fury seeped from under his lashes to mingle with the sweat on his jaw.

The drawing of names continued. Amnerion was called. He turned to Theseus and gave him a rough clap on the shoulder. "It seems that Poseidon wants me after all, to do him honor in his temple. May he grant that we meet again."

"Luck, Amnerion." Theseus gripped Amnerion's hand in his own.

A coldness seemed to seep into the very marrow of his bones, as if drawn from the earth itself. Then there was a roaring all around him, like the waves surging and breaking against the rocks and then rising again, as the wave rises on a high crest with the white foam swirling. For one moment it was as if time itself froze. _Theseus,_ a deep bass voice said, cold and powerful and wild as the ocean itself. _The Sacred Bull may you tame with a dance, but the bull-man will be your death, unless the Falcon spreads her wings above you. Wield not the axe before it has known the Mother's touch. If you give your heart to the Falcon, you will know destiny's promise or destiny's curse, unending. _

Theseus came back to himself with a start. Poseidon had spoken to him, revealing to him fragments of what would be. He bowed his head, consenting. So be it. A king's duty was to protect his people with his life. That life had been called for. It would be given.

The priest withdrew the final lot.

The herald stared, unbelieving.

"Well?" Aegeus demanded.

The man coughed and read in a voice that was little more than a dry croak, "Theseus son of Aegeus, prince of Athens."

The king went white as a corpse. Theseus met his eyes. "So be it, my son. But if by some miracle you survive, forget not to fly the white flag of victory."

"As you will, sir." Theseus bowed. He started forward to join the other youths and maids chosen by the hand of Fate to travel to Crete and live the life of a bull-

leaper. Argo sprang to his feet and would have followed his master, but the prince turned and held up a hand. "No. Argo, stay."

The fleethound obeyed, sitting back on his haunches.

The captive Athenians were led away by the mincing Cretan noble to the tall ship flying the black Cretan flag with the bull's head in the center. The people turned away from the sight, shock and disbelief holding them mute. A hound's voice rose in a mournful wavering cry of loss and death.

**Hope you're all enjoying the twists I've put into this. Please note that Theseus's decision to consent to Poseidon's will is an important aspect of being a king, it wa sbelieved that a king could be called upon to be a sacrifice to his people, and if a king consented to do so, it gave the sacrifice a great deal of power. Not even a king was above the gods.**

**Oh and a fleethound is similar to a saluki, like a greyhound with long hair, bred for coursing deer.**


	6. Chapter 5

A LARGE CROWD HAD gathered about the wharfside, all jostling and pushing in an effort to gape at the new batch of tribute lads and maidens come from Athens. Rumors flew thicker than thieves on the tongues of the people. It was said that an Athenian prince had agreed to become part of the group, to suffer the lot of a common slave and mountebank. They said also

that these Athenian barbarians were too stupid to know what fate awaited them, they had come into the harbor singing and dancing some barbaric war dance.

Ariadne paid little attention to the mutterings going on around her. She wished to see for herself what these newcomers were like. A strange premonition had been growing on her since she had awoken that morning. She had dreamed of a face crowned with golden hair and eyes the color of aquamarines.

It was a face she had seen but once before.

In the courtyard fountain of her garden in the palace.

She had known, even then, that one day the two of them would meet. It was foreordained, as fixed in its course as the stars in the sky.

She remembered a ship bearing a black sail destined for Crete. He had been on that ship. Once a king's son and noble, he had been sent to sacrifice himself at the behest of the Sea God.

_It is your task to protect your people and the one who will save them from Minotauros' evil._

Cleate's words haunted her still, though eight years had passed since the prophetess had uttered them. Ariadne never forgot the old woman's predictions about her half-brother, the deformed brute called Minotauros. Eight years before he had been the second son, neglected, despised, useless. Now he was her father's heir, the only living son of royal blood, still despised and cruel, but now he had the power of his title to back him. These last years he had gathered a large following of wealthy nobles, mostly discontented second and third sons who wanted more power and excitement and saw Minotauros as the means to get it.

The older heads of the houses still remained loyal to her father, but Ariadne expected they did so because they feared change than out of any real affection or respect towards the king.

Minos was old and sick, and getting worse with every day that passed. He kept almost exclusively to his apartments now, attended only by Daedelus and Cronus, his most trusted body servant. He reminded Ariadne of a grizzled old wolf, brought to bay by his younger rival, but still snarling and showing his teeth.

She and Minos had never been particularly close, but he was still her father and if she did not precisely love him, she was still loyal to him nonetheless. The king had first begun to show signs of sickness three years ago, in the form of blinding headaches and dizzy spells followed by bouts of violent nausea and fever. At first the physicians had thought it was the falling sickness, which ran in the royal line, but he had none of the seizures common to the disease. The sickness followed no logical course of symptoms the physicians were familiar with. In vain had they sacrificed doves and goats to Apollo, god of Medicine and Healing, but the god had refused to answer.

The symptoms persisted, until the king was a shadow of his former self, a wraith that wore the semblance of life. Daedelus had done what he could, proscribing a wholesome diet of fruits, vegetables, and bread and willow bark tea, which seemed to help with the headaches and dizzy spells. But even his facile mind could not come up with a reason behind this sudden decline.

People began to whisper that Minos was cursed by the gods, that he had been since his wife had aroused Aphrodite's wrath and been ensorcelled into bedding the Scythian bull leaper. See how the king is driven slowly mad; soon he will fall down on the floor and froth at the mouth like a dog, screaming in a frenzy at nightmares only his eyes can see.

Ariadne, desperate, had resolved to try one last time to discover what manner of disease ailed her sire. But not by medical means. Instead she used the Gift that Dia had given her, the Gift that enabled her to cause fields to bear and plants to grow. The Goddess's Gift was one of life, and with it Ariadne could sometimes sense corruption and decay within the land. She touched her father, and in that one touch her Gift revealed that his illness was not caused by natural causes.

Only Daedelus had suspected what her Gift now revealed as the truth.

Her father was being slowly poisoned.

Daedelus thought it was a slow-acting drug, perhaps thalot, that probably dissolved utterly in food or drink. Given in small doses, the drug would produce mild hallucinations and headaches. But over time, the poison would cause utter deterioration of both brain and nervous system.

Immediate precautions were taken with the king's food and drink. Daedelus prepared every dish personally, using stores gathered from the temple of the Mother, delivered straight into his hands by Ariadne. But even those measures were not enough, Ariadne knew. The poison had been too long in his system and had caused irreparable damage. Despite all they did, the king was dying.

Ariadne's Gift told her that at most the king would live six months longer.

Then Minotauros would rule Crete.

Unless a way could be found to stop him.

There was no doubt in her mind who was responsible for the poisoning.

But she had no reliable proof, and without it the law could not be brought down upon her half-brother. Though she was High Priestess and the Chosen representative of the Goddess on Earth, even she could not undo the fact that her mother had claimed Minotauros as her son, one of the Royal Kindred, and therefore able to inherit the Serpent Crown.

_Like the long-tailed comet that flashes across the heavens, he portends doom and disaster for the House of Minos._

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Minotauros's chariot appeared in the streets. People scattered like leaves blown in a wind to permit the ill-tempered prince room enough to pass. Ariadne found herself jostled roughly by women and men alike, for no one recognized her, dressed as she was in the plain white robe and hooded green cloak of an under-priestess. She had deliberately dressed inconspicuously, for she wished to not have Minotauros's eyes upon her.

Of late, they had been lingering on her too much for comfort, with a look in them such as no brother should have for a sister. The eyes of a bull, maddened with lust and the need to kill.

Just once had she touched Minotauros's mind with her Gift, and the sheer savagery, bloodlust, and dark desire that dwelled within his soul had nearly rent her in two. He was deadly dangerous, and never more so than now, when he had the power to back his cruel desires.

Abruptly she recalled Aegithros, standing in a pool of sunlight in the courtyard, proclaiming angrily, _"If Father does not check him now, while he is still able, he will be well-nigh uncontrollable as a man._"

_But the king is dying, his strength fading more and more each day_. _I am Priestess-Queen of Knossos, and it is my responsibility to protect my people. Somehow, some way, I must stop him before it is too late._

Suddenly her eyes were drawn towards the small group of Athenians standing tied together at the edge of the wharf. Several of the maids were pale, their eyes staring wide with surprise and fear. Some were flushed as if in shame. The men stood protectively near the women, trading angry glares with the Cretan trader, a slick tongued fellow called Vulcan, who had a reputation for making a quick profit.

One man stood slightly apart from the others, and his air was one of calm indifference. But only on the outside. Inside he seethed with a barely controlled fury at being treated no better than a prize horse at an auction. Ariadne gasped. Never had she felt another's emotions so clearly, almost as if they were her own.

Ariadne pushed her way past a stout baker and his wife and saw clearly for the first time the man whose emotions burned like a firebrand in her mind. Hair the color of sunlight curled about his head like a cap of beaten gold. His bronze skin made a startling contrast against the white of his tunic that reached to mid-thigh. It was pinned with a gold brooch over one lean muscled shoulder. And his eyes were the deep blue-green of the sea on a cloudless day.

He was the vision in the pool.

Theseus looked about him curiously, all the while trying to ignore the stares and comments of the people gathered on the wharf side. He heartily wished he was back on the ship, for all that its rolling and pitching caused his stomach to turn over, despite the fact that he had to endure Vulcan's sly glances and his overt attempts to seduce little Thea into his bed. Theseus had nearly come to blows with the man, but had been held back by Amnerion, who was no less outraged, but who knew that to attack the Cretan noble would give him the perfect excuse to drag the girl off and have his way with her, since he knew that would bother the proud Athenian captives more than any other kind of punishment he could mete out.

The prince knew that his friend was right, and he left Vulcan alone, save for glowering warningly at the man whenever he chanced to go near Thea. Yes, he'd welcome even Vulcan's lecherous eye over the eyes of these strangers, who spoke a mixture of Greek and Minoan and acted as if he and his countrymen were little more than beasts who could not understand speech and so it did not matter what was said in front of them. One of the women, a rather pretty brunette in a peacock-blue skirt and a low-cut bodice with her hair curled up on her head, said to her companion, "Look at the scowl on that one's face! Is he as savage as he looks? Still, he has good shoulders and a strong back. He might last a season at the most."

Her companion, a young boy of about sixteen, wearing only a patterned loincloth and arm bands and necklet replied, "They say, Sappho, that these mainlanders fancy themselves as civilized as we are. Can you imagine? I'll warrant that this one can't write more than his name, if he can write at all. Doesn't read either. Probably doesn't have the brain to do more than swing a sword or pull a plow."

Theseus ground his teeth together. He would not lower himself to reaching out and grabbing the insolent pup by the ear and giving him the thrashing he so deserved. Amnerion touched him lightly on the shoulder.

"These people are insolent to the point of rudeness. But it's to be expected. To them we're no better than objects. Yet even so, I want to put my fist through their teeth. We treated our servants at home much better."

The golden-haired warrior was silent a moment before answering, "That's because we saw our servants as people. Besides, my grandfather would never have tolerated such behavior from either of us."

"That's for sure! We'd be whipped and sent to bed without supper."

"We're both a little too old for that, don't you think?"

"Not according to your grandfather." Amnerion said with a chuckle.

Which was true. Pittheus still tended to treat him as if he were ten instead of nineteen. He supposed it was only natural, seeing how the old warrior had raised him until he was eighteen. "Theseus?" came a soft child-like voice. "That ugly man is coming towards us."

Theseus turned to meet Thea's frightened blue-eyed gaze. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Don't pay any attention to him, little one. These people are ignorant and barbaric."

"But he's—oh!" the child gave a soft cry of horror. "He's got a face like a beast! Don't let him touch me, Theseus!" She tried to hide her face in his cloak, but the Athenian prince tipped up her chin and spoke in a soft voice.

"You must not show how much you are afraid, Thea. You will see worse before we are done here, I'm sure. You must learn to face whatever comes with your head up and eyes open, girl, even though you want to weep. Be brave, little flower, and remember nothing can hurt you unless you let it."

"I—I will try, my lord." The girl swallowed and lifted her head, staring at the large, misshapen man coming towards them. "Why is he like that? Is he a monster, come to devour us?"

"No, of course not! He's only a man, he was probably born like that. Don't go believing those tales Pyrrha tells you. She's as full of wind as a huspah smoker." Theseus said sharply. He was not angry at Thea, but at Pyrrha, one of the other maids from Athens, who enjoyed telling tales that made one's hair stand on end. She should know better than to speak such nonsense to Thea, who was all too impressionable.

"He may have a face like a bull, but he's wearing enough gold on him to buy all the ships in your grandfather's harbor." Amnerion remarked. "Only a king would have that much gold on him. Is he Minos?"

"Father of Storms, no! Minos is half-Greek, and well-favored by all the women. That one would frighten his own mother." Theseus said quickly. He had spoken in Greek, thinking the man too far away to overhear and unfamiliar with the mainland tongue.

He was wrong. He turned around to see a heavily muscled chest covered with rich golden chains and pendants. The Cretan's eyes, though small, were lit by a cruel intelligence. "Once the bulls are done with you, pretty boy, your own mother won't recognize you." Minotauros said with a cruel laugh. "If you're lucky."

Then, before Theseus had time to register his intent, the man drew back his hand and slapped the Athenian prince hard across the face. The blow was so strong that Theseus was almost knocked to his knees. Blood trickled from a corner of his mouth where Minotauros's heavy ring had cut his lip.

Thea gasped. Slowly, Theseus brought up his hand. The other watched, the gleam in his dark eyes glowing brighter. Theseus knew that the brute would like nothing better than a fight to give him an excuse to beat his captive senseless. He was about to be disappointed.

Theseus lightly touched his lip, feeling it start to swell. He gave the beast-like man a warning look and then he smiled coolly. Let the brute make what he would of that.

"Mind your tongue, boy. It'd be a shame to cut it out." Minotauros snarled. "What are you called?"

"I am the Chosen of Poseidon."

"I asked for your name, idiot!"

"Theseus son of Aegeus, prince of Athens. Forgive me if I misunderstood. My Minoan is not that good," the Athenian warrior said, greatly daring, for the big Cretan had been speaking Greek, though with an atrocious accent.

Minotauros frowned, uncertain whether or not to fly into a rage. Had he been insulted? No, the pretty boy would not dare insult him further. He was a fool, like all mainland savages.

Ariadne tensed, seeing the shadow of black fury pass across her half-brother's face. She prayed that the Athenian warrior had sense enough not to provoke him further. When Minotauros had struck the Athenian prince, she had almost fallen over; his pain had resonated back to her with such force that she had raised a hand to her mouth, half-expecting to see blood on her fingers.

She closed her eyes briefly. Never had she felt another's pain so strongly. It was as if she were bonded to the man, linked by her Gift so deeply that if he died she feared that she might also, if only from the shock.

Ariadne opened her eyes, shaking off the last vestiges of the Athenian's pain. She concentrated on observing the confrontation between Minotauros and Theseus.

_The Bull and the Stallion shall meet, but the Falcon will decide who lives._

Minotauros was the Bull and Theseus the Stallion. But who was the Falcon? Ariadne scowled. She hated the obscurity that always came with Cleate's prophecies. Why did prophecy have to be hemmed round with riddles as thick as flowers on a bridal gown? It was bad enough to See that something was going to happen, but not to know the details made her want to tear her hair out and scream.

_I like not the look in Minotauros's eye. His mad brain plots some new atrocity, I'm sure of it. And the whole of it shall fall upon the warrior who so boldly challenged him._

Minotauros plucked a heavy golden collar off his thick neck and held it up in front of Theseus like a man giving a bone to a dog. The collar was embossed with dolphins and mermaids done in jewel tones. It was well worth a king's ransom.

"Chosen of Poseidon, are you?" Minotauros mocked, his twisted mouth contorting further into a sneer. "Here in Crete we have only a Priest-King, like our Egyptian cousins." The deformed prince gestured to the froth-topped sea. Off to the left was a large rock outcropping, where the waves swirled and crashed in ferocious turmoil. "That there we call the Sea's Tooth. Below the current is especially strong, we call it Poseidon's Fury. Only the bravest sailors and warriors dare to swim it. Those who survive are said to have the Sea Lord's own luck. I am one such." Minotauros's eyes gleamed. "A true Chosen of Poseidon will swim the current, for the god will aid him. Do you count yourself among them, little Athenian barbarian? Then show us your mastery of the sea. If you survive, I shall give you this." He waved the necklace under Theseus's nose, and his mocking laugh thundered over the harbor.

Theseus never hesitated. In moments he had stripped off cloak, sandals, and tunic. Clad only in a loincloth he ran to the edge of the wharf and arced smoothly off it, his slender body curved like a seal in play. The water closed over him like the embrace of a lover.

For any other man, Minotauros's challenge would have been a death sentence. But the beastial prince of Knossos had no knowledge that Theseus had spent much of his boyhood diving from sheer rock cliffs into the sea to search for clams and shellfish, and even the occasional bit of jewelry that had slipped from a lady's hand as she alighted from a ship. Amnerion and he had made it something of a game, seeing who could remain under the longest on a single breath.

Below him now the sea floor was cluttered with sponges and coral and the pieces of ships timbers rotting, broken pots, and refuse. He continued to swim, feeling the current grow stronger, more wild as he made his way through the water. _I did not think it would take me this long. I am a fool, for not remembering that the water here would be dark with all the garbage they throw in it, not clear like the cliffs around Troizen._

He swam further, his eyes beginning to sting from the salt water. He could feel the tightness in his chest that came from lack of air and knew he could not remain under too much longer. _Father Poseidon,_ he prayed silently, _help me. I wish only to keep my people safe and to repay this slight on my honor._

The sea rumbled, and then he was amid the deadly wash of water. The current sucked at him, pulling at him with the strength of a dozen horses, dragging him backward. Theseus struggled to maintain his calm, fought against the panic that rose in him, the panic that came upon any who had ever been caught in an undertow. _Be calm, calm. Panic only uses up strength and air. It will kill you just as quick as the sea if you let it,_ the prince repeated the advice given him long ago by the old sailor Nestor, who had taught him how to sail and swim and fish the great depths. Kicking hard with his legs he managed to thrust himself forward, so that he was abreast of the current instead of against it.

His muscles howled with the agony of the strain of fighting the wild water, but he gritted his teeth against the pain. To give in was to die, and Theseus stubbornly refused to do so. Poseidon had brought him here to redeem a vow, not to drown in some ignominous challenge made by a mad prince. Furious, he stroked upward, using his hands like a ship's prow to cut through the water. The waves roared about him, churning foam until he was made deaf and blind. He could feel his chest squeezing, iron bands tightening, tightening, until he almost gasped aloud.

_Poseidon, help me. Sea Lord, hear now your Chosen. Is this your will, that I die here?_

In another instant he would have been lost, dashed against the rocks like a ragdoll, his bones splintered and crushed to a red pulp. But then a gigantic wave lifted him up, gentle as a father lifting a small child. He rode the foaming crest with ease, as it pushed him past the seething rocks and into the calm harbor beyond. There it set him down and a booming bass voice said, _You are my Chosen, Theseus. Beware the Bull-Man, he courts your death, if he can. Be not reckless again, my son._

Theseus bowed his head, flushing in shame at the sudden scolding tone._ Forgive me, Lord. I will not forget myself again._

_All is forgiven, my son._ Came the Sea Lord's answer, and the waves seemed to glisten and caress the Athenian's weary body. Theseus felt all of the aches and weariness fade away as the Sea Lord healed his Chosen, reaffirming beyond doubt that Theseus was indeed his Chosen.

He shot up towards the surface, feeling his head grow dizzy. He emerged in a patch of sunlight, and drew in one long breath of air like a man who had drowned and come back from the dead. With the graceful ease of a dolphin, he swam effortlessly to the wharf and climbed out.

Minotauros wore a look of disbelief on his face; the look of a man who thought he had a prize within his grasp only to see it slip through his fingers at the last moment. His small, round eyes never left Theseus, but he called over his shoulder to the crowd, "Seems to me he is more fish than man. It would seem the sea claims you as his own." He bowed to the Athenian, but it was more mockery than obesiance, and all who saw it knew it. He held out the necklace. "Your reward, little merman!"

Theseus took the necklace, held it gently in one hand. The workmanship was exquisite.

"It is not wise to mock the gods. I am Poseidon's Chosen, as you can see. I thank you for the gift, my lord, but I regret that I cannot accept it. This is fit for a god. I will offer it to Poseidon, that he may spare you his wrath for doubting my word."

Theseus tossed the necklace into the sea.

"If you want it, go and talk to Poseidon. Though I'm sure he won't give it up without a fight," the warrior told an outraged Minotauros.

For one moment Ariadne's heart froze. Her half-brother was not one to honor a pledge and he did not hold with respecting the gods as much as he should. He had been made to look like a boastful fool before half the court of Knossos, and he did not take such slights at all well.

Still, he would one day be Poseidon's priest, and it would not do for his people to see that he held the god in such low esteem. Carefully, she reached out with her mind, bracing herself for the burning pain she would feel upon contact with her half-brother's mind.

The pain was there, but it was not the blood-red, raging inferno she had feared. Instead the rage was shot through with streaks of black. Angry Minotauros might be, but he would not release his anger now. Later, he would have his revenge upon the Athenian barbarian.

Ariadne gasped as his cruel musings seared into her like a hot knife against her flesh. She snapped the thread that bound them and shielded herself from all outside emotion. She felt a slight buzzing in the back of her mind that told her that the bond she had first felt upon seeing Theseus was still there, but now she felt none of his feelings beyond the one that told her he was alive.

Ariadne pressed her hands to her temples, rubbing them as they began to throb.

"No, let the god keep his offering. He has been generous today." Minotauros said. Then, in a voice meant only for Theseus, he hissed, "Watch yourself, Athenian. You may be a wizard in the water, but no man has yet mastered the bulls. And if they do not take your life, be assured that_ I _will."

He stepped away from Theseus, who retrieved his cloak and tunic and began to pull them on. "We will meet again." Minotauros said loudly. "Forget not the name of Minotauros, barbarian!" Then he was mounting the steps of his chariot.

With a last flourish of the whip, he spun his horses about and was gone.

Ariadne released the breath she'd been holding in relief. Then, as if to reassure herself that he was well, she looked at Theseus. He was lacing up his sandals, his head bent. The sun caught his brilliant hair, making it shine. She remembered what he had looked like as he climbed out of the water, his body hard and fit, glistening with sea spray like the statues of Poseidon that stood just outside the Great Hall of Knossos. Only this was no stiff bronze but a living, breathing sculpture. He had the lean taut muscles of a runner, smooth and clean limbed as stallion. His hands were long-fingered and she sensed that they contained gentleness as well as strength. His face was clean-shaven with high cheekbones, but it was saved from being too girlish by a strongly defined chin. Stubborn, without a doubt.

Theseus raised his head and his aqua eyes met Ariadne's green ones.

Heat curled deep within her, beginning at her toes and moving upward like a gentle flame. She wanted him to touch her, to feel those long fingers on her body, in her hair. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers, hot and sweet and demanding. She felt as though she stood in the midst of a bonfire, her limbs being devoured from within by the strange heat he conjured simply by staring at her.

_What is wrong with me? I should not be feeling like this. He is an Athenian, a bull leaper. I am Priestess-Queen of Knossos, vowed to the Mother. This cannot be, I won't allow Cyprian Aphrodite to possess me as she did my mother. I am meant to save my people, not destroy them!_

She tore her eyes away, denying that she had felt his desire as well as her own when their eyes had met. And yet, she could not stop herself from thinking that he was very attractive, and the only man who had ever looked upon her with desire and not worship.

Ariadne gathered her skirts and whirled around, desperate to get as far away as possible from the Athenian sorcerer whose sea-colored eyes had caused her to burn like an oil-dipped torch. She shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring the angry cries and curses people screamed after her.

And yet, run as fast as she would, as far as she could, she would never escape her Gift and the way it had bound her soul to his with chains far stronger and more enduring than star-forged iron.


	7. Chapter 6

FROWNING, ARIADNE TALLIED THE results of the temple stores again. This time the numbers worked out. She had just been distracted, allowing her mind to dwell too much on that Athenian barbarian. Ever since that first morning on the docks, she hadn't been able to get him out of her mind. Worse, every time she thought of him, her mind contrived to conjure up the hot flash of desire that she had experienced when she had met his eyes. It was as if her body, now having felt the flame of desire, wanted her never to forget it. She schooled her thoughts to a more orderly, and unemotional, subject.

The temple had enough jars of oil, bushels of grain, and summer fruit to last them through the next harvest. Not to mention the gold and jewelry to purchase anything the temple required. They would sacrifice a portion to the Mother, as was the custom. Unlike the other temples, the Earth Mother was the only one who did not receive animal sacrifices. She was the Giver of Life, the Corn Goddess. No blood would stain her altars ever. Grain, fruit, gold, these things were her province.

The only Goddess who accepted the sacrifices of young animals was the Maiden, Artemis of the Silver Bow, the Lady Huntress. Ariadne knew that the Maiden was not really a separate entity, but merely the younger aspect of the Earth Mother. She was, after all a goddess, and therefore ageless. She could choose to appear to mortals in whatever aspect she wished—Maiden, Mother, or Crone. The last aspect was usually only seen by the very old or ill; it was a sign that the person would soon be called to her side.

Ariadne had only seen the Goddess as Earth Mother and she would continue to do so for as long as she remained Priestess-Queen of Knossos. Technically, she was not yet queen, for her father had not formally presented her and crowned her before the people. She had been High Priestess since the Goddess had first come to her during her initiation. Some of the under-priestesses were inclined to bicker and mutter because they felt that Ariadne had somehow cheated because she did not spend the regular three years as an initiate and the required six of an under-priestess. But Elaisia had been firm; it was the Mother's will that Ariadne be raised to High Priestess, and so she was.

Elaisia had become as much of a friend and mentor to her as Cleate had ever been. The older woman had been called by the Goddess when she was twenty, a somewhat advanced age. Elaisia had been newly widowed, her husband, a scout in the army, had been slain by a rogue mountain lion on a patrol. He had killed the cat, but soon after he contracted wound fever. His companions were not familiar with healing herbs and so could do nothing. By the time they had returned to Knossos he had died. Elaisia had been three months pregnant, but even that small life was taken from her. She lost the babe the next moon. Elaisia had begged the Goddess to take her as well, so she and her husband and child could be together always in the Underworld. The Goddess had come to her, but not in the way she had expected. The Mother wished her to be a priestess, and promised her in return that she would have many children to replace the one she had lost.

And so Elaisia did. The initiates were her children. Not all the young maidens were called to serve. Some had been dedicated by their parents because they could not afford another mouth to feed. Some were orphaned by plague or war. Elaisia cared for all of them, but some, like Ariadne, claimed more of her love than others.

That was because she needed more of it. Most of the under-priestesses, like Thebe, saw only the rank and prestige Ariadne held as a princess royal of the House of Minos. It did not occur to them to look beyond her rank and the riches that went with it to see the lonely and lost young girl Ariadne had been when she had first come to the temple.

After losing Cleate and Aegithros, Ariadne swore that she would never allow anyone to get close to her again. It hurt far too much to know—with her uncanny Foresight—that a friend was going to die and be able to do nothing to prevent it. Far better to remain alone than have to risk losing yet another whom she loved to death's unforgiving embrace.

But Elaisia could outstubborn a stone, and though Ariadne would have rather been whipped than admit it, she was lonely. She missed Phaedra and her horse, Arion. She even missed the gossipy Meliantha and strait-laced Aglaia. She knew Thebe and some of her followers resented her for being favored by the Mother, which did not sit well with her at all. She had thought the temple priestesses above such things. Apparently they were only human.

And the older preistess was kind and friendly, much like Cleate had been in her more lucid periods. In the end, Ariadne's own heart betrayed her; she gave in and allowed the older woman to become her friend and mentor.

_More than that, really,_ she thought, the tip of her tongue protruding slightly from between her lips, as it always did when she was concentrating particularly hard on some problem. _She's like the older sister I always wished I could have had._

At last she managed to get her figures to balance right. She sprinkled a handful of fine sand on the sheet of papyrus so that the ink would dry faster. For once she hadn't made any blots and wouldn't need to copy the account over. Daedelus would be pleased. He had spent many patient, not to mention trying, hours teaching his young charge to write legibly with ink and a quill pen as well as with a stylus on a wax tablet. Ariadne admitted ruefully that she had not been the world's best student, for she lacked the patience necessary to sit and rewrite her mistakes for hours upon end. But Daedelus, known far and wide for his clever and inventive mind, had arranged a break every hour and this proved quite satisfactory for both of them. Ariadne satisfied her need to run and move about and Daedelus satisfied his need to have a princess write like a scribe and not a barnyard fowl.

Ariadne carefully shook the sand off the sheet and placed it on a tray beside the ink jar and quill. A scribe would pick it up later, record it, and transcribe it to wax tablets. Ariadne shook out her skirts and rose from the low stool.

She had better stretch her legs now, while she still had the chance, because soon she would have to go and listen to the petitioners. When she had first come to the temple she had been shocked to discover that Elaisia, as well as the other priestesses, had a list of answers which they memorized to the most common questions a man or woman was likely to ask the Goddess. She had thought the Goddess answered all the questions directly. Elaisia had laughed, not unkindly, and said, "Do you think the Lady has nothing better to do than sit and answer every farmer who wants to know if his cow will give milk or his wife birth a boy child? The immortals have their own affairs to tend to, they can't be bothered to answer questions that the people could answer themselves if they used the brains they were born with. No, the Goddess speaks to mortals very rarely, and so we have taken the time to prepare answers to the most commonly asked questions. But we always wait a little before giving a reply, just in case she wishes to involve herself with that particular mortal. As I said, usually she does not, but there have been times. . . "

Thus far, the petitioners had asked fairly ordinary questions about crops and wives and firstborn sons and daughters' dowries. The Goddess had not overshadowed Ariadne since last spring, when she performed the ritual blessing and fertilizing of the fields. In addition to memorizing the list of answers, Ariadne also used her own judgement and would always make an effort to touch, very lightly, the petitioner's mind and assess his or her emotional state. Thus she could give more personal and comforting answers to those who were uneasy or afraid or despairing. She had also discovered that her Gift extended to knowing whether the child a woman carried was male or female. This was not a manifestation of her Foresight, but of empathy—even at that stage of life the feelings of females and males were different in a way she could not describe. Thus she could say with absolute certainty that a woman would have a girl or boy, something that not even Elaisia, perceptive as she was, could do.

Sometimes the woman would ask Ariadne if she could See the unborn child's future. Most times the Sight remained quiet, occasionally she would be given a brief flash of the child weaving or waving a sword. But once her Gift had chosen to reveal that a child would die by drowning and she had Seen the dark water close over the child's head, filling his mouth with water, as he had thrashed helplessly. She had gone deathly pale and warned the woman in no uncertain terms to keep her son from the sea at any cost. Sometimes what she Saw could be averted, since her Visions were often warnings of what could be as well of what would be.

"Oh, Ariadne, did you see him?" a childish voice cried from the doorway of the storeroom.

Ariadne turned and saw her little sister running to her, her skirts lifted to her ankles. "Hello, little imp. Come and give me a kiss."

Phaedra, now acquiring the rounded curves of a woman, hugged her sister and kissed her cheek. Her light brown hair was arranged in a fancy crown of braids atop her head. Unlike Ariadne, who had always preferred to have her hair free and unconfined, Phaedra liked the upswept style. Her brown eyes still sparkled merrily with mischief, just as they had when she was a toddler.

"He was so tall and handsome, like the statue of Phoebes Apollo in the courtyard. I could hardly take my eyes off him. He had eyes as blue as the sea and he walked like he was the prince of the island." Phaedra said dreamily.

"Who was, child?"

Ariadne was startled. Phaedra was just turned twelve, and as yet had not started her monthly courses. Yet she already had an eye for handsome men. When had her sister started noticing men? She could hardly take her eyes off him? And she watched how he walked?

"Why, the golden haired Athenian, silly. Who else? They say he is a prince in his own country. Truly, he is a proud and noble man, even if he is only a slave now." Phaedra sighed longingly. "He has such broad shoulders, like a prize stallion, and he walks like a mountain cat, all graceful and powerful. Don't you think he is wonderfully good to look at?"

All graceful and powerful, was he? Shoulders like a stallion, indeed! The little minx was far too precocious for Ariadne's liking. Besides that, Ariadne had to admit that Phaedra's assessments were right on the mark. Still, Phaedra shouldn't be noticing things like men's shoulders or legs or anything else for that matter! She was still a child.

"He may be handsome, but he is also an Athenian and dedicated to the god, little sister," she reminded with a touch of sternness.

"Oh, I know he is a barbarian, but he would make a fine husband. Any maid would be happy to call him hers." Phaedra was smiling now, a lazy simper that Ariadne had seen on some of the palace women who wanted men to notice them. Where had the girl learned such behavior? And she was talking already of husbands!

"Phaedra, where did you get such an idea? Did Meliantha say something to you?" _I'll flay her alive if she put that notion into the child's head. _

"Meliantha? No, why would she say anything to me? She's too busy hopping in and out of Father's bed to notice anything else," her sister said with a scornful toss of her head. Before Ariadne could scold her for speaking in such a crude fashion, the girl went on. "I heard Dana and Kyllene talking after the prisoners were led away to the Bull Court. They said they would be delighted to have him bed them, he looked like a lusty sort."

Ariadne's hand itched to slap her sister. She reminded herself that Phaedra was only repeating what the palace trollops had said. She couldn't possibly know what she was saying.

"Phaedra! Watch your tongue, young lady. A princess doesn't talk like a street walker or a trollop."

Phaedra's mouth turned down in a sulky pout at her sister's reproving tone. "But don't you think he is handsome? I do."

Ariadne groaned. Her sister had all the earmarks of a schoolgirl infatuation. For weeks she would do nothing but sigh dreamily and whisper love poems and bat her eyes. And over the Athenian, a bull leaper, no less. She was half in love with him already, she looked near to swooning every time she spoke of him.

"He may be handsome as Apollo, but he's not for the likes of you. Remember, you're a princess, imp. One day you'll meet a handsome Cretan lord who'll be rich enough to give you anything you want and you'll forget all about Theseus."

Ariadne cursed her slip of the tongue. She hadn't meant to mention his name, or to reveal that she knew anything at all about the man save rumors.

"Theseus? Is that his name? How do you know?"

"I heard him tell Minotauros. Come, little sister," she said, trying to change the subject. "Let us go visit the market and go shopping. I could use a new cloak, my old one is faded. And you look like you could use a new ribbon for your hair."

As she had hoped, the promise of a trip to the market caused her sister to forget, at least for now, the rather touchy topic of men.

"Perhaps we can find some new material for a gown, too. My old ones are so plain and childish. Meliantha promised to make me a new one." Phaedra eyed Ariadne's plain green skirt and bodice disapprovingly. "You could use a new gown yourself. Don't you get tired of wearing that plain green color every day?"

Ariadne flushed in irritation. "Green is the color of life and the Goddess. As her priestess, I wear it to honor her. You are beginning to sound like Kyllene or Meliantha, who only concern themselves with what color gown they're going to wear and what jewels best match their eyes. I suppose you preen yourself in front of a mirror like a peacock too."

"So what if I do? At least I look like a lady instead of an old maid fisherwoman on her way to trade her homespun sack cloth." Phaedra snapped. Her pride was pricked by her sister's sarcastic comment, and she lashed back to ease the sting.

Ariadne's eyes darkened wrathfully. "That old maid fisherwife has more manners than a certain spoiled brat I could name. Get your nose out of the air and back on the ground where it belongs! Your first duty is to your people, not yourself." She reached out and gave her sister a brisk shake. "Being a noble means you treat others with respect and deference, not scorn and laughter. It could have just as easily been you dressed in homespun and living in a hovel, little sister."

Ariadne turned and began to walk out of the storeroom, her skirts rustling sharply about her ankles in testament to her angry strides. She looked back over her shoulder at Phaedra, who wore a sulky frown. "Mind what I say, little sister. Next time I catch you putting on airs I'll take a switch to your royal backside."

Phaedra's mouth fell open. No one had ever dared to speak so to her in all her life. If Meliantha or Aglaia had dared take such a tone with her, Phaedra would have thrown something at them and reminded them in no uncertain terms that she was the princess. Neither would have dared threaten her with physical punishment. From the look in her sister's eyes, Phaedra knew that she meant every word she said. Ariadne never threatened, she promised.

Phaedra schooled her face into a repentant expression and said in quavering tones, "Don't be angry, Ariadne. I'm sorry, I won't ever do it again. Can we still go to the market?" The child blinked rapidly and sniffed.

Ariadne's stern expression softened at the threatened tears. "Come along, imp. The streets are crowded today." She turned away to count the amount of coins in her purse. Phaedra's repentant expression was replaced by an arrogant smirk at having fooled her sister so easily. A few false tears and a hand across her face did the trick every time.

Ariadne could have hired a carriage from the palace to take them to the market like the other highborn ladies, but she did not, despite Phaedra's pleading. "I am High Priestess of the Mother, little sister, and I am meant to serve the people not make them serve me. The Mother gave us legs so we could use them and so we shall, by walking."

Phaedra pouted, and said sulkily, "But I'm a princess, what will the other noble ladies think of me, walking on foot like a commoner? They will make me a laughingstock."

Ariadne shrugged. "Let them think as it pleases them, why should you care? You are Pasiphae's daughter and you should be above such petty concerns. Besides, the streets are crowded enough as it is, I'll not add to it by riding in some chariot that will get stuck in the middle of the market and delay us half the day. I have duties still waiting at the temple, Phaedra, and I don't intend to spend the whole day shopping._"_

_ In fact, I shouldn't be taking this trip at all, what with all the petitions I still have to answer and the Rite of the Bulls I have to perform later on. Still, it does feel good to get out. And I have been neglecting Phaedra._

Ariadne smiled as she watched her little sister skipping ahead of her, her long tresses bouncing up and down, waving at the various people they passed. The girl reminded Ariadne of her own days as a palace princess, when she was carefree and joyous and could ride Arion all day long.

Still, Ariadne was certain that she had not been as self-centered as her little sister was. _But then, I had Cleate and Aegithros to remind me of my duty to my people as the Chosen Handmaiden of the Mother. And neither of them would have tolerated the tantrums of a spoiled child. Not that I would have thrown any. Minotauros's were enough for the entire household, Lady knows! _

A shudder went through her as she recalled her half-brother's mad rages. After Aegithros's death, the rages had grown worse, for there were none who dared to check him. Ariadne sighed. Something must be done about her brother, and soon, before he brought the wrath of the immortals down upon the city.

_Phaedra, too, must be brought to heel_. _Just because she is Pasiphae's second daughter, and not destined to become a priestess of the Mother doesn't excuse her from her duty to her people. She thinks all that matters is rank and privilege. She has all the snobbery of those highborn palace women, and none of the compassion of a ruling daughter for her subjects. It's partly my fault, for not taking the time to oversee her education properly, and make certain that she knew the responsibilities that go along with her rank. She was left too long without proper tutors and now she has become a spoiled, self-centered little brat._

Still, perhaps it wasn't too late to correct that. Her first woman's time would be coming soon, and when it did, Ariadne would summon Phaedra to the temple, where she would initiate her into the Women's Mysteries. Once her sister was at the temple, Ariadne planned to keep her there for some time, so she might receive proper instruction in her duties as a royal daughter and correct the self-centered temperament that Phaedra had been allowed to indulge in.

They passed several booths where people were selling a number of fresh-baked fruit pies and meat rolls. The tantalizing aroma of the food made Ariadne's stomach growl, reminding her that she'd had nothing to eat since sunrise. "Phaedra, are you hungry?"

"What? Well, maybe a little. Did you see the—"

"Good. Let's stop here for our noon meal." Ariadne stated, ignoring the girl's attempt to steer her attention in another direction. The priestess bought two meat rolls and an apple tart for each of them and two mugs of cool cider. The two girls found a shady spot beneath a laurel tree and settled down to enjoy their repast.

At first Phaedra was reluctant to eat, saying that Meliantha had told her that proper ladies never ate in public, that it was vulgar. Ariadne laughed outright. "What nonsense! Meliantha never even goes outside the palace walls, so she doesn't know the first thing about what noble ladies do here. Look there!" Ariadne indicated a tall woman in a peacock blue gown. "That's Lady Sappho, and she's buying some of the fruit tarts." No sooner had the lady made her purchase than she began to eat the delicious treat. "You see? Don't listen to Meliantha, Phaedra. She grows more and more foolish each year with her list of rules of behavior. Next she'll say proper ladies will have to go barefoot and veiled like those of the Turkish harem!"

Phaedra giggled. "Do they really, Ariadne?"

"They do indeed. We have a young novice in the temple who was raised among them. They spend all their lives enclosed behind walls in special women's quarters called the _seraglio_. They are never allowed outside and they are guarded always by eunuchs."

"Is it true that they are all married to the same man?"

Ariadne nodded. "But some go their entire lives without ever seeing him. They are treated no better than prize peacocks. Uma was given as tribute by her husband. She says she never knew women could have so much freedom."

Phaedra made a face. "That's worse than the mainland barbarians. Kyllene says they keep their women in separate quarters for fear that other men will desire them."

"Some do, to be sure. But I have not heard that all of them do so. And they are not barbarians, Phaedra. I daresay that some of their nobles read and write better than you, imp! Daedelus, who was my tutor, is a Greek and he is the smartest man I know."

"He may be smart, but I think he's dull as a stone. Although he does tell good stories. My favorite is the one about the white bull of Poseidon. Daedelus says that we bred our own sacred herd from that bull, and that is why we have the bull dance, to honor the Sea God's Gift."

"Daedelus is right. That is also why the bull leapers are forbidden to carry weapons in the dance. The bulls must never be harmed, for they are Poseidon's sacred children." Ariadne said, thinking of the dedication ceremony she had yet to perform today.

"Have you ever seen a bull dance? I wish I might see one. It must be very exciting! All the ladies choose a favorite, you know, and if he does well they give him tokens. Do you think I might see a bull dance soon, Ariadne?"

Ariadne felt strangely disturbed by her sister's question. She sensed that the girl wanted to see the bull dance for only one reason. "The teams must be dedicated before they can dance against a bull, and furthermore the newcomers must be prepared before they can enter the arena. It will be a few more months before the first dance will be performed, Phaedra. Why do you wish to see one so badly? You never were interested before."

"Well, Theseus wasn't ever in one before. He is quite handsome and just think, I could give him my arm ring." Phaedra sighed dreamily.

Ariadne wanted to give her sister a shake and tell her to quit making a fool of herself. She kept her temper by the slimmest of margins. "Only women give favors to men, little sister. You are too young to be thinking of such things."

"I won't be too young in a few months." Phaedra said with a defiant toss of her head. "Then I can look at any man I want._"_

_ Holy Mother, what am I to do with this child? She has no more morals than the palace light-women! I must keep a very close eye upon her. She must not be allowed anywhere near the Bull Court. Cretan noblemen know better than to lay a hand on her, but some of the foreign bull leapers wouldn't think twice about taking her virginity if they thought she was offering it._

Ariadne rose to her feet. "Come, little sister. I saw the most beautiful length of blue cloth over at the dressmaker's stall. It would just match your eyes. Perhaps we can get enough to make you a new summer gown."

"Oh, yes! And I saw the loveliest coral necklace on that tray. And those pearl and gold earrings . . ." Phaedra chattered gaily, pulling her sister in the direction of the jewelry seller.

Ariadne followed, grateful to think of something other than the Athenian bull leaper and her sister's fascination with him.


	8. Chapter 7

AT SUNSET THE ATHENIANS were led by an under-priestess to the temple of the Mother deep in the Maze. They had been in the Bull Court only a few days, but already they were changed from the young men and women they had been. Their clothes had been taken from them and now they were dressed in the manner of the Bull Court—the men bare to the waist and wearing only a gilded leather loincloth and the woman likewise save for a cloth bodice. Most of the maidens had never dared to show more than a shoulder bared in public, and this dress barely covered them. Many of the girls had wanted to die of shame when they were ordered to put on the costume. "Oh, I look like a mountebank!" wept Cytheria. "What will people think of me?"

"They'll think you a hysterical fool, carrying on like this!" Hylo, a sensible maiden, snapped. "Pull yourself together and act your age. You don't see Thea blubbering. What do you care what they think? All of the girls wear the same costume."

"But—but—"

"Oh, hush!" Pyrrha put in. "Do you want to shame us all? Save your tears for some other time. Did you think to be treated as we were at home? We are bull dancers now, not Athenian maidens."

To their credit, the young men of Athens did their best not to stare at the girls, though they were surprised at the girls' shapely figures. The under-priestess motioned for them to remain before the tall altar where a bronze brazier burned some strange fruity incense, then she disappeared behind a wall hanging. For the first time since they had reached Crete, the Athenians were left totally alone.

"Why look, it's the Goddess!" exclaimed little Thea in a wondering tone, seeing the life-sized statue of the Mother.

"Of course it is, you goose!" laughed Hylo. "They worship the Mother here too. Her Most-Holy Priestess reigns here."

"Why are we in the Mother's temple?" asked Platus, one of the younger boys. "I thought we were dedicated to Poseidon."

"We are, but here they worship both the Goddess and God equally. Thus we are vowed not only to the Sea Lord but also to the Earth Mother." Amnerion explained.

Theseus glanced around the large temple and wondered if the rites of dedication were the same as the ones his mother had performed as priestess back on Troizen. He looked again at the statue of the Goddess.

He found himself strangely reminded of the scene that morning on the dock. After he had come out of the sea, he had lifted his head and stared into a pair of the most captivating green eyes. He found himself wondering who she was and where she had gone. He wished he might see her again, for her eyes made him burn with a need hotter than the forges of Hephaestus, God of Smiths. He shook his head over his foolishness.

He must remember that he was now a slave, dedicated to Poseidon. He would never see her again. It was ridiculous to long for what could never be. He scowled suddenly, recalling the threat of the beastial Minotauros. Powerful was that one, and more than a little mad. He was not one to take lightly, but Theseus did not regret his actions.

_It's a pity he would not face me in single combat. Then we shall see who is the better warrior. I wonder how it is that the people put up with such a mad thing for a ruler? We of Athens would never permit it._

"I wonder how they will dedicate us?" Pyrrha asked, her gaze fixing on the great labrys hung over the altar. Her long reddish hair was coiled about her head in a top-knot which she tugged from time to time. She looked over at Thea, who was wide-eyed with wonder at it all. A sly gleam came into her eyes. "Maybe they will use that axe up there and make a blood offering."

"They wouldn't—cut off our heads, would they?" Thea cried. "Theseus, I want to go home!"

She ran over to the tall warrior and threw her arms about his waist, sobbing hysterically. Theseus knelt down on one knee and said, "Hush, little flower! No one's going to cut off your head. They mean to dedicate us, not sacrifice us. The gods do not accept human blood on their altars, you know that. I won't let them hurt you Thea, so stop crying."

The child scrubbed obediently at her face with her hand. Theseus ruffled her hair and then stood up and leveled a stern glare at Pyrrha, who was smirking.

"Shut up, Pyrrha! Your mouth flaps worse than a jackdaw's, all loud talk and no sense. Be silent, girl, until you have something intelligent to say."

The redhead flushed guiltily and glanced away.

After a moment, the Athenian prince said quietly, "When we were on the ship you made me spokesperson for all of us. We are in a strange land, chosen by Fate or the will of the gods. Soon we will be owing our lives to each other, for we will be a team in the bull dance. Therefore you must put aside your quarreling and learn to work together. If I can, I mean to bring us all home once this is over, and I want us all alive."

"_Will_ there be a chance for us to go home?" Kerkyon asked. He was a small dark youth from one of the village people. "I thought we were of the Bull Court until we die."

"Maybe so, but this time I think not." Theseus answered. "Poseidon called me to the bulls, and consenting I went. The god had some purpose for bringing me here, I doubt it not. But he did not intend for me, or any of you, to spend our whole lives here. I am my father's only son and some day I will rule Athens. I'm not proposing we try and escape from here, we came here in honor and that is how we shall leave it. But I say to you now, that I, Theseus son of Aegeus, believe that one day will we leave here, not as slaves but as free men and women."

He fixed each of the men and women with a determined glare, and such was his presence that they all began to believe and hope that this imprisonment would not be forever. "What would you have us do, Theseus?" Amnerion asked. "Shall we swear an oath to it?"

Theseus nodded. "That would be wise, Amnerion. I call now for a vote, in this our first Assembly. I am one of you, a slave now, not a prince. If you wish, I shall lead you. If not, choose some other. You must all agree. Well, Athenians, what is your will?"

"I vote for Theseus." Amnerion said immediately. "He is the Chosen of Poseidon."

"I agree. We have followed his counsel until now and it has been good." Hylo said.

"Of course Theseus should lead us. He is the best of us all." That from Thea, who had suddenly abandoned her shyness in defense of her hero.

One by one, the Athenians voted for their prince, even the rebellious Pyrrha. "Theseus should lead us. He is the only man I know who thinks that women should have equal say in our laws," the red-haired girl said softly.

"He's also the only one who can make you behave," put in Kerkyon.

Pyrrha shot him a glare, but before she could respond to the taunt, Theseus lifted a hand. "That's a matter of opinion, Kerkyon. If Pyrrha listens to me, it's because she wishes to, not because I force her. I don't think any man could tame her spirit."

"There, you see?" the redhead sniffed. "A sensible man."

"Are you all agreed?" Amnerion asked. "Very well then. Theseus, the Assembly votes you as our leader. Do you accept?"

Theseus nodded. "This, then, shall be our first and only law. We are all of one people, and all equal, men and women. From now on, we are life to each other. I pledge now, by Poseidon Sea Lord and the Earth Mother, to protect and defend your lives and honor as if they were my own, both in the ring and out of it, so long as I shall live. May the gods curse me if I be foresworn."

Theseus held out his hand. "Swear now, all of you who would be a member of our company."

When all of them had pledged their loyalty and honor to the oath, Amnerion said with a grin, "Now we are well prepared to face anything these Cretans throw at us."

"Indeed. Where is the priestess who will dedicate us? At home we would have had the ceremony over and done with by now." Cytheria remarked.

As if on cue, a brass gong was struck, its rich tone echoing through the temple like the rumble of the sea at midday. Startled, the Athenians jumped to attention, their eyes fastened on the altar. Seemingly from thin air, a woman appeared before the altar.

In truth, Ariadne had delayed the ceremony deliberately, both to give herself some time to compose herself before she faced the Athenian whom her Gift had bound her to and also to give them time to finish the discussion which they had begun.

Dressed in a heavy ceremonial robe of pale green shot through with gold thread, her long black hair entwined atop her head, Ariadne walked forward three paces and stopped. To the watching Athenians she seemed the very picture of the Mother, calm, serene, and welcoming.

_So this is their High Priestess_, Theseus thought. _She has great presence._

In reality, it was only her long years of training which kept Ariadne from showing her nervousness. The ceremony was one she had performed countless times before, she knew it as well as she did the beating of her own heart. But the presence of Theseus was making her heart beat faster and that strange flame of desire awaken in her. Beneath her gown she could feel her breasts harden. _Lady's Eyes! What is wrong with me? I have seen men dressed in this manner all my life. Why should one Athenian affect me so strongly? I am Priestess-Queen of Knossos. I have a duty to my Goddess and my people. I will be true to it._

Unconsciously, she lifted her chin in challenge to the bold man who had dared to capture her heart. Ariadne reached out her hands to the Athenians in a gesture of welcome and called upon her Gift.

To Theseus and the rest of his countrymen, Ariadne's outstretched hands began to glow with green light. Then she spoke, her voice low yet rich and ringing with power, "In the name of She Who Gives Life, I bid you welcome."

She lifted her hand, and two under-priestesses approached, bearing a wooden bowl carved with sheaves of wheat and a chalice of carved abalone shell. "All honor to the Mother." They intoned, bowed to the altar, and withdrew.

Ariadne took a pinch of herbs and tossed them into the brazier. She breathed in the soothing smell of angelica, mint, vervain, and valerian. "Out of Earth we came, to Earth we return," she chanted softly. Surrounded by the Goddess's aura, the priestess felt the surge of the life forces of each person like the rushing hiss of some great river. But one rose up in her with a strength unknown to the others, and it called to her, beckoned her as no other had ever done before. _One in life and death_. The Goddess's voice rang like a golden bell in her ears, and she felt herself filled with the power of the Athenian prince's life force. It swirled about her and through her until she felt his heart beat in time with hers. Abruptly she shielded herself.

To keep her hands from shaking, she lifted the abalone chalice, poured out a measure of the water mixed with rose petals into the wooden bowl. "Water—purifier, healer." She dipped two fingers into the bowl and flicked a few drops on the brazier. "Out of Water comes all life."

She swirled the liquid and herbal mixture four times. Then she breathed four times upon the bowl. "Air, the Mother's breath of Life." Lastly, she dipped the end of a slender taper into brazier's flames and touched it to the top of the bowl. For one instant, fire danced along the bowl's rim. "Fire—sustainer, the spark of creation."

Ariadne brought her hand over the bowl, the fire died. She held the bowl up, at eye level. "I call now upon the Four Elements to witness and sanctify this ritual, as they too serve the Mother."

Another gong rang out and the bellow of a full-grown bull was heard in the temple. Two temple guards dressed in ceremonial bronze and green armor entered, leading between them a large white bull with gold-gilded horns.

"In honor of the Mother and her consort Lord Poseidon, I do consecrate this bull." Ariadne moved around the altar. The bull was led up to her. The animal was calm, it had been hand-raised by the temple girls from a calf and it was as gentle as a kitten. Still, Ariadne reached out with her Gift in reassurance.

Swiftly, she drew the bronze dagger from its sheath at her belt. With a quick flick, she nicked the bull lightly at the base of the throat. A few drops of blood fell upon the earth. "By blood of life we are one with the Mother." A second ritual prick and this time the blood was caught in the sacred bowl.

"The Mother's blessing upon this animal, and her favor in the year to come." Ariadne gestured gracefully with one hand, tracing the circle and wheat sheaf which were the symbols of the Goddess in the air. The sigils glowed with green light where her hand passed.

She turned then to face the fourteen bull leapers and again her hand flickered. Green sparks drifted gently down upon the Athenians. "Know thus the touch of the Mother." She made a beckoning motion with one hand. "Approach, and receive her blessing."

Without hesitation, a red-haired girl came to stand before her. Ariadne dipped her fingers in the bowl and lightly touched the girl's forehead. "You are one with the bull, bound in life and death. The Mother absolves you of any sins you have gathered. You are reborn anew. In the Mother's name, I bless you."

Then, because she could feel the uneasiness and fear in the girl, Ariadne reached out and touched her with her Gift, using it to calm and soothe much as she had with the bull. The girl bowed her head and returned to her comrades.

This ritual was repeated for each of the bull dancers. When she got to Thea, Ariadne was almost shocked out of her priestess composure. _Why this child is no older then my little sister! _ She felt an irrational flash of anger at the fact that these Athenians could so callously choose this young child to be a sacrifice to the bulls. "May you walk with the Mother, child." Ariadne whispered in a voice meant only for the child's ears. As she bent down to give the girl the ritual touch of blessing, Ariadne allowed a small smile to form on her lips. The child, seeing it, smiled back. Ariadne was pleased, and allowed a measure of courage and warmth to flow into the child, enough so that she might endure the trial of the bulls yet to come.

At last only Theseus remained.

He came forward with a light, graceful tread that reminded Ariadne of a panther, as Phaedra had said. To her surprise, he knelt before her on one knee. His head was on a level with her chest, and it was only then that Ariadne realized that he was a good head taller than she was and had knelt to her so she could perform the rite without looking like a fool.

Theseus stared at the High Priestess in shock. Her green eyes, as dark as the forest primeval, once again held him captive. She was the girl at the harbor. He was as sure of it as he was of his own name.

Ariadne saw the look of recognition in his eyes and her heart leaped in response. "In the Mother's name, I bless you," she whispered and then she touched his forehead.

At her touch a spark leaped from her fingers, like one swift jolt of skyfire, and in that instant she felt every nerve ending in her entire body awaken and tremble with recognition and a longing so great she nearly gasped aloud. And he was as affected by it as she.

For one moment time ceased to pass, the universe slowed to a crawl, and nothing else existed in all the world for either but the other.

Ariadne withdrew her hand.

The world returned with terrifying swiftness.

Ariadne would have turned to flee, fearful that someone would notice her sudden blush and guess the reason for it. But before she could do so, Theseus grabbed her hand.

The gesture was purely impulse, Theseus knew as well as she that it wasn't permitted to touch the High Priestess without her leave during a ceremony. But when she had withdrawn her hand, it was as if she took part of his soul with her. In that instant, he had felt more alive, more aware, than he ever had in all his life. He also desired her more than any woman he had ever seen. Her touch aroused a fire in his blood that made his head spin.

Ariadne gasped as she felt his lips touch her hand. The kiss was gentle and yet he had branded her as indelibly as if he'd put a hot iron to her flesh. "May she bless you also, little goddess," he murmured, and then he smiled at her.

The under-priestess gasped at his impudence. The temple guards started forward, intending to teach the Athenian barbarian a much-needed lesson in decorum.

"Hold!" Ariadne's voice snapped like a whip. The guards froze like statues. "He meant no disrespect. It was to honor the Mother."

She looked sideways at him and met his aquamarine eyes, sparkling with insolent mischief at his daring. He knew quite well that she held the power of life and death over him here. He also knew that she would not use it to harm. Flushing even more at his presumptiveness, Ariadne hissed, "Go, Athenian, before I lose all patience with you."

He bent his head. "As you will, Lady."

Then he came to his feet and bowed to her. "My pardon, Lady, for startling you."

Ariadne inclined her head. Then he turned and rejoined his team mates. The under-priestess hastily ushered them out of the temple, grumbling about barbarians under her breath.

"You may go." Ariadne waved in dismissal to the guards. They and the bull disappeared back down the passageway behind the altar that led to the bull pens. Thebe, her assistant in the rite, moved forward to take the chalice and bowl from the altar.

"Did he hurt you, Lady Ariadne?"

"Hurt me? Of course not! He but kissed my hand." Ariadne forced her voice to sound normal, though she felt a strong desire to sigh like a lovesick maiden.

"Athenian barbarians! Imagine, daring to profane the High Priestess." Thebe went on, carrying the sacred items back into Ariadne's chambers. "They've no better manners than the bulls."

Ariadne allowed the woman to grumble on. She felt neither outraged nor insulted by Theseus's daring. Surprised and shaken, yes, but not angry. Indeed, now that she looked back on it, the only thing Ariadne felt was a strong desire to laugh in amused delight.

_Oh, Mother of Us All, is this what it feels like to be in love?_

**How do you like this one? **


	9. Chapter 8

AS THEY WERE LED back down the corridor to the Bull Court, Amnerion sidled up next to Theseus and hissed in the prince's ear, "What was all that about back there?"

Theseus shot him an amused glance. "What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean. What bit of craziness possessed you this time, Theseus?"

"It wasn't craziness, my friend. It was . . . impulse." Amnerion stared. "Come on, Amnerion, don't tell me you didn't notice how beautiful she was. You're not blind yet!"

His friend scowled, but after several minutes reluctantly admitted, "I noticed. But she's the High Priestess, not some visiting baron's daughter! She could have had you killed for kissing her like that. They treat their women like goddesses here, you know."

Theseus shook his head. "Not like goddesses, Amnerion. With respect. It's something we of Athens should learn from. Our women are not so different from these Cretans. They have opinions and minds. I think we should learn to listen to them."

"Listen to them, yes. But surely you aren't proposing we do as they do here, make a woman Queen and ruler over us all?" Amnerion was shocked beyond belief.

"I see no reason why we can't have a Queen as well as King. Especially if she were like the High Priestess. Now there's a woman who would be a fit partner for any man."

"Are you insane? She'd order you killed if she heard you speak so! Theseus, remember that you're a slave now, not a prince. She's not some girl you can woo with sweet words and skillful hands."

"I remember, Amnerion." The prince said shortly, his aqua eyes stormy. "I know what power they have over us. But I will die before I surrender to my masters like a tame turtledove. They may own my body, but _no one_ owns my soul!" He continued in a somewhat calmer tone. "As for the Lady, she knows I meant no disrespect. It was impulse, plain and simple. We are drawn to each other, by desire, by Fate, by the will of the gods. Don't look at me like that, my friend. I can't explain this very well, but I know she is my destiny just as I know that it was my destiny to become a sacrifice to Poseidon."

"But does _she_ know that?"

"Yes. I saw it in her eyes, the first time we met."

"I hope, for your sake, that you're right. If you offend her, you might not live to apologize."

"She could have killed me before, Amnerion, but she didn't. She doesn't kill on a whim. She might wield power, but she doesn't do so arbitrarily. That little scene back there proved it."

Amnerion looked unconvinced.

"She has compassion and sense, that much I know." He lowered his voice. "Which is more than I can say for Minos's beast."

Amnerion nodded. "I agree with that, at least." They had almost reached the great double doors which led into the Bull Court's practice hall and living quarters. "Be careful, Theseus. She is a woman of power, and they are always dangerous. You know we are lost if anything happens to you."

Theseus clapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. "You worry too much, Amnerion. I have no intention of seducing her. If she comes to me, it will be of her own free will." _She was as struck by desire as I was. I didn't plan this, it just happened. The gods alone know where it will end. With any luck, it will end with her in my arms. _

* * * * * *

The crowd began to cheer wildly and pound on their stone benches as the bull was led into the ring. The huge animal flung up its tail and snorted. The sound echoed in the arena like a brass gong. Muscles rippling beneath the snowy hide, the bull began to move ponderously about the ring, its short curving horns gilded with gold paint and wreaths of flowers. Reaching the center of the arena, the bull stopped. One broad hoof began to paw the sand. The crowd began to yell loudly. "This one has the god's favor, indeed!" "See the wise look in his eyes!" "Do you think the new team can take him?"

Ariadne watched the scene unfolding before her with new eyes, eyes that were not her own. They were eyes that pulsed with excitement and the thrill of danger, eyes that studied and memorized the way the bull moved and reacted to the crowd, eyes which had hypnotized her and held her captive from the first moment she had gazed into them, imprisoning and freeing her soul in the space of an instant.

The aquamarine eyes of the Athenian prince, Theseus son of Aegeus.

Those eyes had drawn a spark from her, one that could burst into a conflagration of passion so overwhelming in its delight and fire that she could be consumed, her soul swept away, never again to belong to herself alone. She desired that union with all of her being, but at the same time she was deathly afraid.

She knew him in a way that was beyond understanding, almost beyond explaining. Knew his deepest secrets, hopes, dreams, and sorrows. Knew him as she knew herself. He was her mirror, she realized with a sudden flash of intuition. But not a reflection, not an image of her. He was not her shadow. He was himself, separate from her, and at the same time part of her, as much a part of her as her blood and bones. It was as if a piece of her soul had broken off on the day of her birth and been transferred to him. Or perhaps it had always been there, sleeping and dreaming unknown until that one instant when he had touched her.

But now it had begun to come awake, that part of her that she had never known. Now she had begun to see, not just with her mind, but her heart as well. And what she saw made her want to laugh and weep at the same time. She wondered if he, too, felt this desire, somewhere deep inside. Had his soul begun to awaken as well, and discover that its other half beat beneath the soft green gown of a Priestess-Queen of Knossos? Did the knowledge fill him with joy or did he want to run from it and pretend that it never existed?

For Ariadne, there was a little of both feelings inside her. She wanted to rejoice that she had found at last the one she had waited for, the man she would share heart and soul and body with. She wanted to sing her joy so that all could hear and share it with her. But at the same time she longed to cut herself off from this outpouring of emotion, these feelings which were strong as the ocean tides and pulled her inside out. She wanted to deny the closeness she felt because she knew that once she recognized it, gave into it, she would never be what she was before. She would be part of him and he of her, and they would be together always until death claimed them. She did not want him to see her as she was, her soul bared and naked in all its glory and shame. Yet she longed for it as well, the understanding of one who was like her, who shared her love of the earth, whose heart beat with compassion and tenderness, whose spirit was as wild and untamed as her own.

_I don't have time for this! _ Her mind fretted, trying to distance itself from her heart. _My father is dying and Minotauros is plotting to overthrow the rule of the Goddess and set himself up in her place. My people need me to be strong, especially now, when they will be so divided. I cannot allow myself to be distracted, not for an instant, or Minotauros will have Crete, and all of us shall be as dust beneath his feet._

Ariadne lifted her head, looking around the great amphitheater, the largest on Crete. It was a half-circle of twelve tiers, each section lovingly carved from the purest white marble dug from mines on the mainland. The tiers closest to the arena were the most sumptuous with thick blue cushions placed over the cold marble. These were reserved for nobility and visiting dignitaries only, the rest took seats higher up. The amphitheater could probably hold all the people in Knossos, but today it was about half full—a surprising thing considering that the newest team danced first. But then, everyone was curious to see how the Athenian barbarians would perform in the sacred rite. All eyes fixed on the arena, a glittering expanse of white sand surrounded by the high walls of stone. The sand was drawn from the beaches and later blessed by a priest of Poseidon. Off to the right was a large arch barred by a gate. That was where the bulls were led into the arena. On the opposite side was the entrance for the dancers.

Ariadne, as reigning High Priestess, had the most coveted seat in the amphitheater—a large covered canopy of green cloth with a curtain secured to one side that could be drawn for privacy. The box was meant to hold three people, but today Ariadne sat alone, unaccompanied by her under-priestesses. She felt her stomach curdle in nervous anticipation; she wiped her hands surreptitiously on the fold of her simple green gown.

The crowd was growing impatient, chanting for the handlers to bring out the bulls. Involuntarily, Ariadne's hands balled into fists. Irritated, she reminded herself that this dance was no different from the hundreds of others she had seen. The Athenians were but human; dedicated now to the Sea Lord and the Mother, whatever they had been before no longer mattered. Now they belonged to the Bull Court, to dance for the honor of the god and themselves.

It had not always been so. Long ago, the dance had been held but once a year, and it was a true sacrifice—pitting one dancer against one bull and at the end either animal or man would be dead. And the dance had been a private ceremony, witnessed only by the Priestess-Queen, her consort, and the gods themselves. Back then, the bulls had been more spirited, quicker to charge and quicker to gore and full of savagery. Then, too, the dancer was permitted to carry weapons into the arena.

But as the years went on, the gods no longer demanded a blood sacrifice, and the dance was altered; an offering of skill instead of blood. The bulls began to be bred specifically for the arena; snow-white with legs like pillars and shoulders like Mount Atlas, but they were slow to anger and slower to react, having had most of their wits bred out of them. Their horns were short and curved inward and were often gilded or capped with gold. They never knew a harsh word or a whip or stick, only the firm pats of the temple trainers or the whisper light touches of the dancers as they leaped and cavorted over them. They were the chosen of Poseidon; it was death to harm one.

As with the bulls, so too with the bull dancers. Now they were teams comprised of both men and women and what had once been a test of survival had now been elevated to an art form. Now the dancers trained for months on the sands of the arena, learning how to tumble and fall without injury, to leap and catch and hold with the speed of a monkey and to balance on the back of several thousand pounds of muscle like a cat. They were chosen for grace and quickness, small of limb and wiry, and only the most agile and powerful became bull leapers, the most revered and most dangerous position on a team.

It was a strange life, that of the Bull Court, or so Ariadne had heard. Though they were slaves, they were not treated as such. They were given the finest foods and drink and women, if they were so inclined. The girls were kept chaste, for one who was with child could not perform, and it was their sacred duty to dance for the pleasure of the god. The Bull Court was guarded night and day by the Temple guardsmen, but a chosen few were allowed outside the walls of the labyrinth at night. They knew no harsh treatment, save an occasional switch administered by the Head Trainer Krispos if a dancer was too arrogant or lazy in their performance. And yet, they were bound as surely as if they bore manacles on their wrists and fetters on their ankles. Bound by law, and duty, and power, and the will of the gods. They could not know freedom. To live and to dance the bulls , or to die on the shifting sands of the arena. Such was the way of the Bull Court.

The Most Holy Priestess of Knossos recalled eyes the color of the sea, mischief-laden as they gazed at her, and her heart wept for the proud Athenian who had made himself a slave for his people. _It is not right, that this should be so,_ cried her traitorous heart. _But was it right that his countryman slay your brother Aegithros?_ Her mind whispered venomously. _The crown prince of Knossos is dead, why should the crown prince of Athens not suffer?_ She shook her head violently, almost dislodging her veil. _Vengeance is not the way of the Mother. Besides, it is unjust to make an entire people pay for the crime of one man. The choice was not their own, and therein lies the shame of the Bull Court, and the shame of my father who ordered it so._ Ariadne went suddenly cold, her whole body freezing in the warm spring sun. If the sacred dance was based upon a lie, then Poseidon's wrath may yet fall upon Crete. Or perhaps it had already, in the person of her twisted half-brother, Minotauros.

Then her thoughts scattered as the dancers entered the arena, limbs glistening with oil, bare save for white linen loin cloths and breast bands. All the dancers wore their hair short, for long hair could become tangled on the horns and bring death. There were seven dancers to a team, mixed male and female. Ariadne did not need the deep bass tones of the announcer to tell her that the team standing on the sand was the Athenian team called the Ospreys, led by none other than the prince himself. They had named themselves, it was said, and she found the name oddly fitting; an osprey was a sea hawk, a fierce bird of prey and dedicated to Lord Poseidon.

The great bull trotted to the far end of the arena and shook his massive head, the gold tipped horns catching the sunlight in blinding flashes. The team waited patiently, moving into position. A deathlike hush settled over the crowd. A fly buzzed near the bull's ear. It flicked it off. Then the announcer's voice cried, "For the honor of You, mighty Poseidon, Lord of the Waves, let the dance begin!" A white rose fell to the sands, the signal to begin.

The bull snorted, steam curling in the air, and went forward. The Ospreys scattered to the sides, moving right and left and behind the behemoth bearing down upon them. All save one. He stood straight and tall before the charge, gold hair gleaming in the sun, aqua eyes bright. Theseus. There were other blondes among the Athenians, but Ariadne knew it was he. No one else had such presence, such poise, such indefinable grace.

Ariadne felt the brush of his mind against hers like golden wings, and she gasped aloud at the heat of his touch. Yet he was unaware of what he did, all his concentration was on the bull. The bull drew nearer, its hooves shaking the earth. Ariadne's hands clenched into fists. Why does he stand like a statue? He must move, now, or all is lost.

Then he moved, all litheness and speed, hands catching the lowered horns, gripping hard like iron, muscles straining up then going taut, body bowed slightly like a crane in flight. Suddenly she was no longer a bystander watching from above, she was in the arena, sweat trickling in warm rivulets down face and shoulders, hands aching in spite of the calluses, the peculiar musky scent of the bull rising to her nostrils. The animal tossed his head, seeking to rid himself of the clinging weight. A slight shift of balance, then over and down, toes brushing lightly and gripping the velvet soft hide, then legs propelling up in one great thrust, to tumble with knees tucked close once, twice, and three times over the broad white back. Then gravity reasserted its hold and she was down in one long controlled fall, being caught by strong sun-browned hands that steadied her feet on the burning sands.

The crowd screamed and cheered, chanting _"Theseus! Theseus! The Ospreys!"_

There was a sickening, dizzying wrench, and Ariadne was back inside her own body. Shaken, she put a hand to her mouth, swallowing sharply against rising nausea. That had been no simple sharing of emotion, but a true bonding of heart and mind. For those few minutes in the arena they had been one. One with an Athenian bull- leaper who risked life and limb upon the burning sands. For one moment she had been what he was, felt the ambition, exhilaration, and triumph that fills an expert bull leaper when he dances and dances well.

Now the others were going in and hanging on the horns, doing handstands and somersaults over the head and back of the bull, grinning like seals at play in the wild sea. Ariadne drew in a deep breath, wondering as she did so why she could still feel a lingering heat between her toes, despite her moss green slippers. Angry, she felt for the contact, and shielded herself from it. She would not allow her Gift to manipulate her like this. The roar of the crowd was deafening. She felt it rise and break around her like a tidal wave against stone, and she yielded and let it wash over her untouched.

She was safe inside her own mind, shielded by cool marble walls.

Now the bull was being led out of the arena, and the dancers were lined up, arms linked to take their bows. In the center stood Theseus. The screaming mob rained costly bracelets and rings down on them, as well as love notes and flowers. Never had there been a dance such as this one, nor a bull leaper so skilled and so unafraid. A few of the team stooped to gather up the costly things lying on the sand. But Theseus turned his head, ignoring the king's ransom in jewels at his feet. His aquamarine eyes narrowed, scanning the crowd. Until he came to the green draped box of the High Priestess.

Unbidden, Ariadne's eyes found his. And the marble walls crumbled like sand beneath his knowing gaze. He smiled at her, the smile of a lover. Ariadne felt herself flush at his presumption, but heat swept over her in a scalding wave, driving back her angry pride. _The others may scramble for the golden trinkets in the sand. They may dance for the roar of the fickle crowd. But I dance for the gods alone. For the gods—and for you, my Ariadne._

His mind-voice was like velvet sunlight, all soft and golden. It reached into the deepest part of her soul where only the Mother had ever seen. It left her vulnerable and aching in a way she had never been before. Almost, she surrendered to it. Almost until she recalled Cleate's words so long ago. _In vain did I plead with your mother not to go to that Scythian bull leaper._ But Pasiphae had not heeded the warning, and the result had been Minotauros. _No! It will not happen again! I am meant to save my people, not destroy them._

Her shields slammed back into place. She saw the shock and anger in his gaze, but turned her head away. The Ospreys left the arena, leaving jeweled tokens scattered behind them. They would be gathered up and given to the dancers later by Krispos. Ariadne felt him withdraw, the warmth draining from her in a slow trickle. She turned around. She was the High Priestess of the Mother, protector and nurturer of her people. She would find a way to depose Minotauros. It was her task, given by the Goddess, and no man would stand in her way, not even if he were prince of Athens and a Chosen of Poseidon.

She watched the rest of the bull dance unseeing, and so missed the glare of envy Phaedra gave her. For her sister had seen where Theseus's eyes had strayed to and she was furious. It wasn't fair, Phaedra thought mutinously. Why should _she _have everything? Ariadne, always Ariadne. But not in this. In this she would be the victor. Ariadne was a preistess, but she knew less of the arts of love than a ten-year-old. Phaedra had studied under the masters of the craft. It would be a simple matter to turn the Athenian's eyes from her sister's to her own. And once they were turned he would be hers forever.

**Well, what do you think will happen now?**


	10. Chapter 9

THESEUS WAS SILENT AS they made their way back from the arena, ignoring the jubilant laughter and teasing of his companions. Ariadne's rejection of him stung worse than a thousand hornets, the worst part of it being he did not understand why she had thrust him so firmly away. He had felt her, if only for a moment, out on the sands; felt her wonder and astonishment as he performed a maneuver that had long since become routine. And then she had shut him out. Damn the woman! If this had been Athens, he would have gone to her and demanded she see him so that he might discover the reason behind her odd behavior. But this was not Athens, it was Crete and here he was little more than a slave and she the High Priestess. He gritted his teeth against the memory of her slender hands as they had touched his head, light as a lover's stolen caress, the way her small breasts had swelled beneath her green gown, the curve and sway of her hips as she had come toward him. The mere thought of her had him aroused, he thought savagely, and clenched his teeth against the rising tide of desire, doing his best to ignore his discomfort. It was enough to drive a man mad.

He was so focused on maintaining his control that he almost stumbled over Thea, who was capering in front of him, turning somersaults like a foreigner's pet monkey. "Watch me, Theseus! Watch this! They said we were the best ever!"

Her cheerfulness was like salt to his wounded pride. "Quit capering about like a fool, Thea." He growled. "Those fools wouldn't know a good performance if it bit them. You were off on that last pass, you were lucky Pyrrha covered for you. Pay more attention to the bull next time and less to the crowd before you end up like Maurdion." He scolded sternly, reminding her of a careless dancer who had died a week before beneath the bull's hooves.

The child's face went white at his harsh words and she sniffled, huge tears pooling in her eyes. The tears made him feel guilty, which only made him angrier. "Quit sniffling like a baby," he ordered in a tone meant only for her ears. "Act like a bull dancer before I take a switch to you myself."

Thea shrank from him in fear, then turned and ran back behind Pyrrha. "What the devil's gotten into you, Theseus?" Amnerion demanded, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and spinning him about. "We've had one of the best dances since we've come to this island and you're acting like a wolf with a thorn in his paw."

"Leave me alone, Amnerion," Theseus snapped, thrusting his friend's hand aside.

But Amnerion knew him too well too be frightened off by his temper. "The way you're acting, you'd think someone died. And what by Gaia's grace did you say to Thea? She ran from you like you were Hades incarnate."

"I don't wish to discuss it, Amnerion. Now go, before I—"

"—Before you what? Hit me? You're welcome to try, if you want to end up the way you did last time we had a fight." Amnerion challenged, his dark eyes growing angry.

"Last time we had a fight you were two inches taller than I was. You don't have that advantage now." Theseus reminded.

"But I'm stronger than I was when we were boys."

"So you think."

That was enough for Amnerion. He swung a fast right hook, catching the prince full on the midriff.

Theseus gave a grunt of surprise, then returned the favor, clipping his guard captain on the jaw. Amnerion staggered but remained upright, eyes blazing. Theseus swung again, but this time Amnerion was ready for him and ducked. His uppercut snapped Theseus's head back.

Theseus shook his head to clear it and tasted blood on his lip. Before he could retaliate, Kerkyon and Pyrrha were between them.

"Stop it, the both of you!" the red-haired maiden cried, her hands on her hips. "Is this how you've been taught to behave, brawling like two rutting stags in the middle of the corridor? And you a prince, no less!" She shook a finger at Theseus. "No wonder the Cretans think we're barbarians."

Theseus opened his mouth to defend himself, but Pyrrha had already turned away, saying, "Never mind the excuses, just put some cool cloths on that lip before it swells, my lord."

"Yes, Mother," Amnerion called mockingly.

Pyrrha spun on him, eyes flashing. "You're lucky you aren't my sons. I'd probably beat the both of you into next week." Then she stalked away, the rest of the team trailing behind her.

Amnerion flushed and looked sidelong at Theseus, who grinned and chuckled. "I'd say it turned out exactly like the last time."

Amnerion flung back his head and laughed. "Not quite, my friend. If I recall, your grandfather made certain we couldn't sit down for a week."

"Yes, well, thank the gods for small favors."

"Seriously, though, what _is_ bothering you? The last time you were in this kind of mood was when the chambermaid's daughter—what was her name, Tira, Tamara?—told you to meet her in the stables and she never showed. You were so furious with wanting her I thought you'd go mad. Lucky you found Kellia the cook's helper to—" Amnerion paused, staring at the faint blush that had crept up his prince's cheekbones. "By Aphrodite, that's it, isn't it!" The captain fell back against the stone corridor, doubled over with laughter. "Which one is it this time? I wouldn't think any maiden would refuse you, not after the way you danced today."

"Most wouldn't. But not her."

"So find someone else. There's plenty of women to go round." Amnerion shrugged. To him one woman was as good as another.

"Not like her."

Amnerion frowned, wondering what woman could have caught his prince's eye so totally. And there was only one woman he had met in Knossos who would have that effect on the Athenian prince. "Forget her, Theseus." Amnerion advised quietly. "She's meant for the gods, not us mere mortals."

Theseus turned away without answering. _That's easy for you to say, Amnerion. You're not the one who shares thoughts with her. Forget her? If I lived to be a thousand, I'd still remember her face. I could no more forget her than I could forget my own name. Less even._

He sighed and began to walk down the corridor leading to the Bull Court. The quarrel with Amnerion had released some of his tension, but he regretted the words he had spoken to the youngest member of the team. It would seem he had some apologizing to do, and then he would see if a long swim in the courtyard pool would quench his futile longing for one he could never have.

* * * * * *

Minotauros paced the length of his private gaming room, his powerfully muscled legs striding across the finely woven carpets like a stampeding herd of oxen. Impatience and barely restrained violence radiated outward from the massive prince in ominous waves, making the room's other occupant tremble with foreboding. Obsidian eyes peered from beneath jutting brows, pinning the jewel-bedecked man seated at the table with a deadly burning stare.

"Well, Demosthones? What have your stones foretold? Will it go as planned? Will I at last be king and master over all of Crete?"

Demosthones, a handsome man in his middle thirties, hid his fear under a mask of false solicitude. He was a careful man, a necessary trait when one served under Minotauros. He knew well the folly of showing fear in front of a mad bull. "You will rule in Crete for a time, my prince," he answered, one hand toying nervously with a golden chain. "But your reign will be short and end in blood and fire. So have the stones foretold. Unless—"

"Unless what?" Minotauros froze, his nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. "Who impedes my reign, soothsayer? Is it my sister, the oh-so-noble priestess?" His split lip curled into a sneer.

Demosthones hid a shudder of revulsion. He often wondered why this mad creature had come to be raised as a prince and not exposed on some hillside. Far better for all of them if he had. "In part, my lord. But I saw another opposing you, a man whose power rivals your own, a foreigner with sea-colored eyes."

"And what was his name, this man with sea-colored eyes?"

"The stones do not give names, my prince, only images. Symbols if you will. Your symbol is a Bull. His symbol is a Stallion." The soothsayer shrugged. "That is all I can tell you."

Minotauros stiffened. Muscles rippled down his chest and shoulders, and for one moment Demosthones feared he would go into one of his famous rages and begin breaking whatever he could get his hands on . . .including any human foolish enough to be in his way. But then Minotauros frowned, and chuckled softly. "So. A stranger with sea-colored eyes. Not a common color among my people, is it?"

"No, my lord. As a rule we are dark of eyes and hair, except of course in the case of the Most Holy Priestesses. They alone bear green eyes as a sign of favor from the Earth Mother."

"Like Ariadne. This foreigner, was he perhaps an Athenian?" Minotauros asked slyly.

"I don't know, my lord. It is possible, I suppose."

"Did you see how they would betray me? By law, I am the next Priest-King of Knossos, as I am the last living son of my line. What treachery does my sister plot with her barbarian lover?" Minotauros snarled, his eyes beginning to glow with a strange reddish cast.

"There—there will be a battle, sire. You will fight the Athenian and one of you will win, I could not see which. The High Priestess watches. That is all I know, I swear by Apollo Sun Lord!" Demosthones flinched in his chair, praying fervently that he would survive this encounter.

Minotauros's hand lashed out, sweeping golden dishes filled with the remains of a sumptuous feast to the floor. "Find out what they plan! Cast the stones again! My father will die within the fortnight and I must be ready to take power! There must be none who will dare oppose me. All my life I have played second to Aegithros and Ariadne. Always I was the scorned one, left to pick out the scraps they tossed to me. But no more! Now it is _my_ turn to hold the whip. And any who do not bow before me will be broken. Understand?"

"Yes, sire." Demosthones fell to his knees, fear almost choking him. "It will be as you wish, sire."

"Good." Minotauros growled. One hand reached down and lazily gripped the heavy golden chains about Demosthones' neck, hauling him up until he was face to face with the twisted visage that was more beast than man. "You will cast the stones until you discover their plans. You have seven days. Pray the gods look upon you with favor, seer. You know what will happen if you fail!" The seer nodded. "Now, get out!"

Negligently, Minotauros flung the slender man across the room. Demosthones went limp, biting his lip to keep from crying out as his knees and hands cracked against the hard stone floor. To show weakness would be to court death. The soothsayer scrambled to his feet and ran from the room. He would sacrifice a dove on the altar of Apollo the Far-Seeing tomorrow, and pray that the gods were kind.

Behind him he heard the sound of wood splintering and a deep voice bellowing curses foul enough to make a sailor blush like a virgin.

_Mother of Us All, deliver us from this madman._

* * * * * *

Two days later, Daedelus summoned Ariadne to the palace. The king had taken a turn for the worse. When she arrived, Minos was struggling to breathe, gasping and wheezing, his face almost blue with effort. Daedelus had placed a brazier filled with aromatic herbs near the bedside in hopes that it would aid him and had propped the dying old man up with pillows. "Rest easy, sire," the inventor murmured softly, bathing Minos' head with mint water.

Upon hearing Ariadne's footstep, Daedelus turned. "This is the worst attack yet. I've done everything I can. Ariadne—"

She held up a hand. "Not yet." Ariadne hurried to her father's side, one hand stroking his forehead. She could feel the life slipping from him despite all she could do. There was congestion in his lungs, constricting his breathing. She bowed her head, calling upon her Gift. Golden light flowed from her fingers, easing the pain, healing the damaged tissue. The king gave a shuddering breath and the blue tinge faded from his cheeks. "Rest now, Father." Ariadne whispered, and used her Gift to grant him a healing sleep.

"Keep the brazier burning tonight. That will keep the congestion from his lungs. For now." Ariadne said, tucking the sheets up round the frail form in the bed. "It's strange, to see him lying there so weak. He was always so strong, so full of energy. At least, that is how I remember him when I was a little girl."

"Aye, and so he was. Lusty and laughing, always with a song or a joke and a pinch on the rump to any serving maid that caught his—well, you know what I mean. But he is mortal, just as any man. Even kings die." Daedelus smiled sadly. "He is not a wise or clever ruler, and his temper is too quick by half, but for all of that he is my friend."

Ariadne nodded. "You know him better than I."

"Yes. A failing for which I scolded him often. But he said you reminded him too much of your mother. For all his faults, he loved her deeply. When she died, I think she took part of his spirit with her."

Ariadne shrugged. "That at least would explain why he seemed so reserved and almost sad whenever he spoke with me. But it doesn't really matter now. Aegithros was far more like a father to me than Minos."

Daedelus frowned, stroking his short golden beard. "So he was. I miss him still." He glanced at the slumbering king. "You know he will not last much longer, no matter what you do."

"Yes. My Gift can only do so much. But it is not his time yet. He does not usually have these fits. What brought this on?"

"Minotauros, what else?" Daedelus answered bitterly. "He's holding some damned feast tonight celebrating Poseidon and Dionysus. He informed your father that he was borrowing some of his serving maids for the entertainment."

Ariadne's eyes flashed. "Another drunken orgy. Must he humiliate everyone he comes into contact with? I can only imagine what the palace will be like when he wears the Serpent Crown! For thousands of years Knossos was a place of learning and beauty and wisdom and in a day he will make it into a den of licentiousness and greed where drunks and gamblers rule and the only law is his pleasure. Damn him to hell!"

"They'd not want him." Daedelus said wryly. "But here's the odd thing. He means to invite a bull leaper to the feast. In fact, he is one of the guests of honor."

"A bull leaper? But Minotauros detests them. He has never even attended a dance, so why would he single one out now?"

"Perhaps because this one is no ordinary man, my Lady. He is a prince also. A prince in my country's greatest city."

"Theseus son of Aegeus, prince of Athens!" Ariadne whispered, and went pale.

"Ariadne! Are you all right? You're pale as a ghost." Daedelus cried, pushing her into a chair. "Here, drink this," he ordered, thrusting a cup of wine at her.

"No, I'm fine." Ariadne waved away the glass. She drank wine as little as possible, for spirits tended to lower her mental shields and make her more sensitive to others emotions.

"Drink it." Daedelus ordered, scowling at her like a schoolmaster with a rebellious student.

Knowing he would only insist, Ariadne gave in. She sipped twice from the cup. "Satisfied?" she asked in icy tones.

"You looked like you were about to faint." Her former teacher replied without even a hint of apology. "I didn't think the healing took that much out of you."

"It didn't. I was . . . surprised."

"Shocked speechless is more like it."

"You would be too if Minotauros invited a man he considers an enemy to dine with him. Mother knows, it is not to forgive and forget. He is planning something, and knowing Minotauros it is sure to be vile. Theseus does not know what he is capable of."

"Then you will warn him?"

"No. A warning is not enough. I will go to the banquet also. Just in case."

"And what if your brother decided to kill two birds with one stone? Ariadne, you cannot!"

The High Priestess arched one brow imperiously. "Daedelus, you're letting your fear over-rule your common sense. Minotauros knows better than to try and poison me. Any overt attempt on my life and the people would rise up against him. He would bring down the wrath of the gods upon this city and that is not what he wants. He wants to rule supreme and until Father dies he will not tip his hand. He will be cautious and until then I am safe. Theseus, however, is fair game. Minotauros has vowed revenge for that insult at the harbor."

Ariadne shivered, recalling the terrible black rage she had felt coiled inside her half-brother's mind. "He must have someone to watch his back."

Daedelus gave her an exasperated look, then sighed. "I suppose it's no use suggesting that you send another to watch over him, is it? Only be careful, Ariadne. You are the last hope of Knossos. And remember, the most dangerous of all creatures is a mad animal."

"I will." She rose to her feet. "I must go, the morning services are about to begin." She cast a glance at the sleeping king. "Take care of him, Daedelus."

"I will, my Lady."

Just before she reached the door, she turned. "But you're wrong in one thing. The most dangerous of all creatures is a woman protecting those she loves." Then she slipped from the room, black hair trailing sail-like down her back, as silent as a ghost from the Underworld.

Daedelus poured himself another cup of wine and settled himself more comfortably in the chair. It would be several hours before the king woke, time enough for him to review the new drawings he had made for a system of pipes to draw hot water to and from several rooms in the palace. One corner of his mouth quirked upward. Perhaps he should warn Minotauros to beware of Ariadne. For in nature was not the female the more dangerous of the species when threatened?

* * * * * *

The banquet hall of the Little Palace was ablaze with light, thousands of torches in sconces burned along either side of the hall, making the rich blue and gold and deep carmine mosaic tile glitter. The floor was beautifully done in an abstract design that swirled and leaped with sprightly abandon over the tile. The floor had been built and designed by the great artisan Daedelus at Ariadne's suggestion many years before when she was still a carefree princess. She had wanted a floor one could dance on, one that was both beautiful and functional. Daedelus had acquiesced, and the floor of the banquet hall soon became a place of much dancing and merrymaking. But Daedelus, with his love of puzzles, had created a design that contained within it the exact layout of the Labyrinth, the Hall of the Double Axe. No one but he and Ariadne knew of the map hidden in the mosaic, and no one but she knew the twist and turns of the Labyrinth so well that she could navigate them by the light of a single lantern. Ariadne had not known why she felt compelled to memorize the maze of tunnels and corridors that composed the Maze, but some premonition had warned her that such knowledge was necessary, and she did as the Goddess-born vision bid.

At the far end of the room was a huge long table set on a dais. The table was crafted of the finest wood, a deep rich dark kind called teak which was found far to the east in a strange land where huge cats and even huger creatures called elephants roamed through vast tracks of wilderness called jungle. It had been booty taken in the days when her family was still practicing piracy, and had been a fixture in the hall for time out of mind. Magnificently carved chairs with velvet cushions stood sentry about the table, the largest and most decorated sitting at the far end like a throne.

Ariadne, wearing her customary green robe, though this one was made of fine linen with gold braid about the hem and sleeves, entered the hall just as dinner was about to be served. She was late, having had to subdue a sulky Phaedra, who had wanted to attend the banquet and been furious when Ariadne forbid her. After half an hour of shouting and tears, Ariadne had told the girl that if she did not cease her atrocious behavior she would be locked in her room until she was sixteen and learned the meaning of rational behavior. And being that Phaedra was now housed in the temple, where the High Priestess was the ultimate authority, the girl did not doubt for an instant that Ariadne could do as she said.

So it was that the High Priestess entered the hall wishing she could throttle someone, and the first sight that caught her eye was her half-brother, sitting casually upon the high seat that was reserved for the king, one leg dangling over the carved arm rest. He was dressed in a sumptuous purple robe decorated at hem and neck with gold and diamonds and upon his thick locks was the golden Serpent Crown.

Ariadne caught her breath in shock, the blood flushing her cheeks in fury. How dare he presume to wear the crown given only to an anointed Priest-King of Knossos! Worse, he had dared usurp her father's rightful position at the head of the table, a place that belonged to the prince only upon the king's passing. And Minos was still very much alive. The insolence and sheer arrogance of the man was appalling. By sitting in her father's chair he profaned not only the House of Minos but the very gods themselves!

Almost beyond speech, Ariadne strode forward, her face a mask of fury that would have done a berserker credit. She tolerated much from Minotauros, more than she should, but this was beyond all tolerance. She moved through the crowded sea of nobles and artisans like the prow of a ship cutting through the waves. Upon seeing her face, people slipped from her path with undue haste, though whispers began as soon as her back was turned. By the time she reached the dais, bets were being made on whether she would slay Minotauros on the spot with a bolt of divine fire or send him to the headsman or stick a dagger in his throat.

A hand closed over her wrist, firm and unyielding. She spun, fire in her eyes. "Who dares—!"

"Now is not the time, Ariadne," Daedelus whispered, drawing her to one side.

"Do you see what he has done!" she began, fury making her voice hoarse. "He claims what he has no right to, and he does so in full view of the court. My father is not dead yet! And by the Mother, his disrespect and mockery go beyond all the bounds of propriety and decency. Someone must put him in his place, and I am the only one here who can do so."

The quick-witted Athenian shook his head, drawing a fierce glare from the High Priestess. "I see what he does, and it makes my blood boil that we must endure it even for a night, but now isn't the time to call him on it. He has done it deliberately, knowing full well how you will react. He wants you to confront him, so that all may see that you oppose him, and give him a chance to strike at you without fear of reprisal."

"Fear of reprisal? I am High Priestess, and any harm he does me will bring the wrath of the Mother down on his head. I hold the greater rank, I have every right to call him to account."

"You are underestimating him, my girl. He longs to do you harm, for you are the only opponent on the board with the power to check him. Give him an excuse and he will take it. And if the Mother strikes him, she will strike also at Crete. The wrath of the gods is rarely discriminating. Would you see your people suffer, your homeland destroyed by divine fire and flood?"

Ariadne bit her lip, cursing the fates that had set her on this course. She was the protector of Crete, so ordained upon her ascension to High Priestess. She would never knowingly harm her people or the land she loved. "It is not right. One day he must be made to answer for his crimes."

Daedelus relaxed, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. He had never seen Ariadne so enraged and he had not known if she would listen to reason. "And one day he will. When you are crowned Queen of Knossos. Until then, he and his hold the reins of power. Let them think they are in control for now, they are too drunk on pride to see the brink of the cliff that looms ahead. They will slip and fall to their deaths. Just be patient, Ariadne."

"I hate it when you are right!" Ariadne growled. "Damn you and your Athenian logic."

"Better my Athenian logic than your Cretan temper," he answered, grinning. "Logic is the cornerstone of civilization. You have seen what a sorry state Knossos is in because your brother rules with more passion than reason."

"A ruler needs both to rule competently," Ariadne nodded, quoting an oft-remembered lesson of Daedelus's. "I remember, my friend. Rest assured that I shall rule with both reason and compassion when the time comes. Not to mention the full sanction of the gods. Minotauros does not know the depth of the chasm before him by not showing proper respect to the gods. They will punish him for it someday, this I have Seen." She sighed, permitting the last of her anger to fall from her. "Patience has never been one of my virtues, but I will try."

"How well I know that, my Lady." Daedelus chuckled. "Your scapegrace ways were nearly the death of me."

"Poor Daedelus." Ariadne mocked gently. "You loved the challenge, and well you know it. I've not forgotten what you taught me."

"Praise be to Athena. Sometimes I wondered." The Athenian bowed and drew aside. "I must return to the king. I dare not leave his side for long. Besides, you have another to protect tonight. Or did you forget the prince of Athens?"

"No more than I could forget my heart." Ariadne said softly, unaware she had spoken the words aloud. Daedelus flashed her a look of astonishment, but it was lost on her. Theseus had entered the hall and was seated a few places down from Minotauros. "Take care of my father. I will see your prince comes to no harm." Then she was hurrying toward the table to claim the seat on the right of the tall bull leaper, for only by being close could she defend him from Minotauros's cruelty.

Daedelus watched her go, somewhat sadly. _You will protect him, child. But who will protect you from him?_

Theseus stared at her in surprise as she came toward him, one fair brow arched questioningly over his unusually colored eyes. He seemed even more astonished that she chose to sit next to him. "Your Highness, you do me a great honor," he said sincerely, flashing her a smile that made her tremble.

"You flatter me, my lord," Ariadne replied, returning the compliment. She had never met a man quite like him. She sensed no deceit in him, no empty flattery or casually spoken promises. She found his honesty refreshing and quite a change from the noblemen who often flattered her in the hopes of gaining something for themselves. He was not in awe of her or her powers as were most of her people. And she sensed that while he accepted her for what she was—High Priestess and ruler of her people—he also saw her as a woman, something which few people had ever done. Theseus was surprised that she called him by his title. He was, after all, a mere bull leaper now and his rank held no consequence here. None of the Cretan noble women he had been with had ever offered him the respect of his title, though all were aware that he was a prince of Athens. "Do you know that you are the first person to address me by my rank in over three months? Thank you."

"You may be a bull leaper now, but that does not change who you are. Don't your countrymen address you as _my lord_?"

He shook his head. "Not any more. When I consented to Poseidon's will, I gave up my rank and became no more than any other man. In the arena all of us are equal, the bulls do not care if you are a prince or a stableboy. Step wrong once and you will end up ground to dust the same as any other mortal." His voice was utterly calm, the calmness of one who faces death on a daily basis and has learned not to shrink from it. "The truth is, I forbade them to call me by my title. I did not think I would miss it, not having had it for very long, but strangely I do."

"So you are a man who enjoys flattery? I wouldn't have thought so. And what do you mean, you have not had your title very long? You were born to the royal house, were you not?"

"No to the first question and yes to the second. I don't miss the flattery, but I am used to the respect my position commands. If that sounds like arrogance to you, I am sorry."

Ariadne laughed. "It does, but it is true, so I forgive you."

"It would seem you also have your own share of arrogance, lady," he teased, one corner of his mouth twitching upward in a lazy smile. "I suppose it is bred into us. As for the other, I meant that while I was growing up I did not know I was a prince of Athens. My grandfather raised me until I was eighteen, and only then did my mother tell me who my father was. It was for my own protection, my father had many enemies who wouldn't have hesitated to kill me in order to strike at him. By the time I was grown, my father had succeeded in conquering all of those who opposed his rule and it was only then that he sent for me. Until then I was simply the grandson of an island lord and the son of a priestess, noble blood but not royal."

"Were you angry that your mother did not tell you who you were?"

"At first, I was very resentful." Theseus admitted. "My grandfather soon cured me of that. I was unforgivably rude to my mother, I even made her cry. My grandfather made me apologize to her after he gave me the thrashing of my life."

"He beat you? But you were almost a grown man."

"Yes, well, according to my grandfather it is behavior rather than years that make a man. He said that if I was going to behave like a spoiled brat I was damned well going to be punished like one. I didn't think so at the time, but he was right. My behavior was inexcusable and I deserved everything I got." His aquamarine eyes twinkled merrily as he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I don't know why I told you that. You are the only one save Amnerion who knows about that terribly embarrassing episode. I hope I can trust you to keep it a secret."

She found his nearness utterly intoxicating, making it hard to breathe, and so it was a few moments before she answered. "Your secret is safe with me, prince of Athens. I am glad to see that you are no longer a spoiled young lord. I don't think I would like you half so well if you were." Now why the devil had she told him _that_? She had no wish to encourage the passion she had seen—and felt—in his eyes at the harbor. And yet she could not seem to help herself. She was as drawn to him as a moth to the flame. His eyes were the color of the sea at midday, and like the sea they beckoned her to become lost in them, to surrender to the wildness that lurked just below his polished exterior. Abruptly, she caught hold of herself. She was a High Priestess of the Mother, not some green girl to be led astray by a pair of bewitching eyes and a handsome face. In this she must be ruled with the cool logic her Athenian tutor was always boasting of. She must be ruled by her head and not her heart. It was the only way. The needs of her people must come first. Only when Minotauros was defeated would she be free to follow her heart.

Aware that he was staring at her intently and that the conversation was taking a far too intimate turn, she quickly said, "It is too bad Minotauros did not have someone like your grandfather to keep him in line when he was a child. If he had, perhaps he would have turned out more a man instead of a beast. His rages were the dread of Knossos when I was a child. The servants walked in fear of him. Once, he nearly killed a man."

"Your father did nothing?"

"My father was—not very involved with his offspring," Ariadne said tartly. _He was more involved with his own pleasures. _"He did not condone my brother's behavior, but neither did he control it as he should have. I don't know why. The only one who had the courage to do something about him was Aegithros, but he died before he could act on it." Sorrow flashed in her eyes at the thought of her beloved brother. She missed him still even after all this time. "I believe he had planned on locking him in a cage somewhere and giving him the same treatment he dealt out to others."

"It would have served him right." Theseus whispered. "I am sorry about your brother. His death was a waste of a fine warrior. I was not at my father's court when it happened but I heard rumors. The baron who committed the crime brought shame upon all of Athens and especially my House. All know that a guest is sacrosanct."

"What happened to the man who killed my brother?"

"My father executed him. But his death alone did not expunge the stain of murder from my House nor erase the dishonor and shame it brought. And so we pay tribute to Minos of Crete, our lives for the life of his heir, until he deems it enough." His tone suggested that he doubted Minos would ever think enough Athenian lives had been sacrificed to make up for the death of his son. "Such is the justice of kings."

"You do not agree with the king's terms?"

"That the one who did the deed die, yes. That is only fair. That we pay some kind of recompense for your brother's death is acceptable. But your brother has been dead for six years, his spirit gone long ago to the Elysian Fields. And still we of Athens pay in blood for a crime none of us committed. Year after year we sacrifice our best youths and maids to dance the bulls and never in all of that time has any one ever come home. Not one." His hand clenched about the delicate crystal goblet, almost snapping it in two. His eyes burned like a storm tossed sea, his brows drew down in sharp slashes in disapproving majesty. "But that will change. This time I mean to bring them home safe, no matter what the cost. I regret your brother's death, Ariadne, but it was not my hand that cast the javelin."

She should have felt anger at his words for she had loved Aegithros deeply. He had been more of a father to her than Minos when she was growing up. But she had foreseen Aegithros's death long before he had sailed to Athens. It had filled her with grief but not revenge. She bore no animosity towards the Athenians or their prince. Indeed, she felt that Aegithros himself would disapprove of the way Minos had dealt with the Athenians. Her brother had been a compassionate and honest man and he would not have made innocents suffer for something that was not their fault. Theseus was right. Six years was long enough. The debt had been repaid. Perhaps it was time to revoke the tribute. "Is that why you came then? To rescue your people held captive in the Labyrinth?"

"No. I came because it was the will of Poseidon Sea Lord, whose Chosen I am. It is only right that the king sacrifice himself for his people. He called to me and I came willingly. I dance to honor Him and to pay the remainder of the debt owed to the House of Minos. It was, I suppose you could say, destiny that brought me here. But I did not come alone. My people came with me and I have a responsibility to them to see that they return safely home. And that I shall do, I swear by the Sea Lord."

"And what of you?"

"My fate is in the hands of the gods, Lady," he replied. "Unless you See something that I do not?"

Ariadne flashed him a startled look. The last thing she had expected from him was a request to foresee his future. She was not even sure it was possible, for she sensed that her fate was twined with his own and it was forbidden for a priestess to see her own destiny. "Are you asking me to foresee your future, Theseus? I cannot always do so, the Gift comes when it will and not always when I wish it."

"No, Lady. Poseidon himself gave me a prophecy. He said _the bull-man will be your death unless the Falcon spreads her wings above you_. I don't understand what it means, but perhaps it will become clearer in time."

His words sent a chill through her veins. That prophecy echoed one made by Cleate long ago. _The Bull and the Stallion shall meet but the Falcon shall decide who lives._ She knew at last the people to whom the prophecy referred. Minotauros was the Bull and Theseus was the Stallion, the horse being the favorite animal of Poseidon. And she was the Falcon, the Mother's swift hand of justice. As she had known, she was to be his protector, his shield against the treachery of her half-brother.

He gazed at her, noticing immediately that her green eyes were far away as if she were seeing something beyond mortal vision. He reached out a hand to touch her. The flesh beneath his hand was icy as if snow ran through her veins instead of blood. She did not seem to be aware of him.

He shook her gently, not wanting to draw attention from the other diners, and called softly, "Ariadne? What is it? What do you See?"

As if waking from a dream she blinked, one hand coming up to shield her eyes, trying to block out the vision she had seen. There were times when she considered her Sight more curse than blessing. Like now.

"Ariadne? Are you all right?"

The concern in his tone warmed her like fine wine, dissipating the icy coldness in her veins. "Yes. I am fine," she answered, regaining her composure only through years of training. A priestess must never reveal shock or surprise at her Goddess-given visions. She must remain impartial. It had been one of the first lessons she had learned as a priestess-initiate.

But how could she remain impartial when the vision was of herself? She and Theseus locked in a passionate embrace the likes of which she had never dared imagine, much less experience!

A blush spread up her pale cheeks as she recalled how she had clung to his long lean body, hands caressing the tautly muscled back, kissing him. He had pressed her to him, responding with a passion that had lay sleeping until now. It was a desire that could either heal or destroy. His desire throbbed a counterpart through her veins, ready and eager to lay her on his mantle and make love to her. And the worst thing was that she wanted him to.

More than anything.

"I—It was nothing," she lied swiftly. "Nothing that makes any sense. Sometimes the Sight shows only fragments and it is not until later that I am able to interpret them."

The Athenian prince nodded, sensing that she was holding something back. Whatever she had Seen had shaken her deeply, but he would not pry. A priestess's Vision was her own, she could choose to share it or not as she decreed. Before he could say more to her, Minotauros lifted his goblet at the head of the table.

"Friends and honored guests!" he yelled, his voice deep and hoarse like the bellow of the bulls. "I propose a toast!"

The talk about the hall stilled and all eyes turned to the bestial man who would proclaim himself Lord of Knossos. Theseus turned and their eyes locked. In that instant he saw the madness that enslaved the deformed prince, a madness that would challenge the very gods themselves. Then the Cretan smiled at him, a false smile given for his subjects alone, and said, "Tonight I toast the agility and strength of the bull leaper Theseus! May Poseidon grant him favor!" Then he drank, and his guests followed suit with a loud cheer.

Theseus dipped his head slightly, in answer to the unspoken challenge in the Cretan's eyes. He lifted his glass and sipped, for to do otherwise would have been a grave insult. The wine slid down his throat, sweet and slightly syrupy, not at all like the bitter vintages of his homeland. Tradition and courtesy demanded that he make a toast in return. Smiling faintly, Theseus raised his own glass. "To Minotauros, may he reign as wisely as his father!"

"To Minotauros!" the guests shouted, not realizing the subtle insult in the Athenian's words, for few cared to remember that Minotauros's true sire was a Scythian savage who had lived and died in the Bull Court, a slave who had appeased a queen for one night only.

Theseus saw that Minotauros recognized the veiled insult, for the narrow eyes glinted at him with barely suppressed fury. Theseus smiled tautly, knowing the Cretan longed to charge at him and grind his face into the dirt. Only the laws of hospitality prevented him from harming a guest. And Minotauros was not yet in a position to break the sacred laws without reprisal.

Ariadne caught the look and laid a hand on Theseus's arm. "A wise man does not bait a mad bull," she warned, her voice pitched for the Athenian's ears alone.

"Not unless he can slay it," he said out of the corner of his mouth, taking another sip of wine.

"You forget, my brother holds much power here," Ariadne whispered, alarmed at the turn his thoughts were taking. "Now is not the time to act. Not yet."

"Wait and you risk all."

Ariadne shook her head. "Not so. Move too quickly and he will know all. He seeks to destroy you, prince of Athens. He may be mad, but he is not stupid. He does not forget how you humiliated him that day at the harbor. Do not underestimate him. He is more dangerous than you know."

"If he is so dangerous, why don't you remove him? You are High Priestess of Knossos. Surely you possess power enough to— " he gasped as a searing pain shot through him. His head swam and he shook as with a fever, though the night was cool.

"Theseus! What's the matter?" Ariadne hissed, seeing him suddenly go deathly pale. Then pain slammed into her, curling down the link in a white-hot blaze of fury. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and one hand clenched on his arm.

"I . . .don't know . . .sick . . ." he hissed, barely able to hold himself upright.

Awareness flooded her. _Not sick. Poisoned, _she sent. There was no need for her to say who or how. There was also no time to lose. _Leave. I will meet you by the inner courtyard. My Gift will heal you._

Theseus nodded, sweat beading his brow. He stood up, pain making him sway unsteadily on his feet. Muttering something about having too much wine, he staggered from the room, cursing himself for a fool. He should have known Minotauros would try something like this. Dizzy, he leaned his head against the stone wall of the small courtyard. Thankfully there was no one about, all were enjoying the feast.

Waves of nausea swamped him and he doubled over, retching uncontrollably. Burning pain seared his insides and for one moment he was utterly helpless, captive to a treachery which could very well cost him his life. It frightened him down to the core of his being. To die in battle was one thing, it was death by steel, honorable, and swiftly over. But this agonizing pain came and went in waves and it was not nearly enough to let him sink peacefully into oblivion, as he desperately longed to do. Instead he huddled on the cold mosaic tile, wracked by chills and fever, sick past bearing, and he prayed for a swift death through clenched teeth.

_Poseidon . . .help me. . .be merciful to your Chosen . . ._

But it was not Poseidon who came to his aid, but the Mother, bathing him in a warm green light that banished all pain, soothing and comforting. The green light held him gently and cleansed his body of the deadly substance, restoring to him once more his strength and health. Then it was gone in a whirl of bright green sparks, and he reached out a hand as if to catch it, a cry of protest upon his lips at the loss of such beauty and warmth. Unbidden, tears sprang to his eyes, for he sensed that never again would he know such peace in life.

Gentle fingers touched his lips, and he stared into the brilliant green eyes of her Most-Holy Priestess. "Ariadne," he whispered.

"Lie still. The poison is gone, but your body may take time to adjust to being healed so quickly," she told him, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder, delicate as the brush of a butterfly's wing.

Only then did he realize that his head was pillowed in her lap. "It was you who healed me then. Not the Mother," he muttered, somewhat dazed, his aquamarine eyes clouded with confusion.

"Not so, Theseus. The Mother works through me, and grants me her power. It was her touch you felt, as surely as mine." Ariadne explained. "If it was not meant for me to save you, then no power of mine could have healed you. For good or ill, our destinies are linked. She has set her Hand upon you, even as she has me."

"To what purpose?"

"To save Knossos."

Astonishment flashed across his face, now regaining its bronze tone. "Then the gods do not sanction Minotauros's rule?"

Ariadne spat. "Sanction it? He defies them with his lust for power, his ambition knows no bounds. He would dare to set himself up as sole ruler of Crete, and make me his mere consort, a pawn for his pleasure alone. He seeks to overthrow the worship of the Mother herself and in its place he would dedicate a new temple . . . in his own name!"

"But that is sacrilege! Surely your people would never tolerate it." Theseus protested, shocked to the core of his being that anyone, even one so ambitious and crazed as Minotauros, would dare to pit himself against the traditions the gods themselves had ordained.

"You have seen my people, Theseus. They are like children in a house with a cruel drunken father. They tiptoe about and speak in whispers, fearful of making the slightest sound lest they wake him up and be punished terribly for their presumption." Ariadne said softly, her eyes filled with sadness. "They have lived too long in the shadow of a mad child, and a king who watched and did nothing to protect them. They have lost their faith in the House of Minos. Aegithros's death robbed them of the one decent prince left of my House. All that remains is Minotauros. They fear his wrath and the wrath of Poseidon, should they reject him."

"But Poseidon would never sanction such cruelty!" Theseus retorted defensively, sitting up.

"You and I know that," the High Priestess said quietly. "But the people will not believe it, not unless they are shown proof. I am sworn to protect them and to defend the Earth Mother and her temple against Minotauros's sacrilege. I have pledged my life to it as Priestess-Queen of Knossos."

His hand closed over hers, enfolding her slender palm in his rough callused one. Their eyes met in shared understanding. "And mine as well. I owe you my life, but for you I would have died tonight. Honor demands that I do you a service of like proportions in return."

"And so you shall, Theseus son of Aegeus, prince of Athens." Ariadne stated quietly. Her aspect was suddenly stern and forbidding, the face of a priestess who has gazed upon fates that no other mortal could ever know, much less comprehend. "This was a prophecy spoken long ago by another worshiper of the Mother. _The Bull and the Stallion shall meet, but only the Falcon will decide who lives!_"

"And what does this prophecy tell you?"

"If I am right, it means that you and Minotauros shall meet in battle one day soon. And by the gods' grace and mine, you shall kill him!"

"Gods Above, Lady, it is no small thing you ask of me!" the Athenian swore softly, eyes widening.

"It is not I who ask it, but the gods themselves." Ariadne corrected. "You are destined to be Knossos's savior, if you choose."

"Then I can choose otherwise? But I thought—"

"That you had no choice? Oh no, Theseus, the gods did not give us free will for nothing. We are shown what they wish us to see and become, but only we can choose to do as they say. Or not. I am given the Sight so that I may tell you the consequences of your actions."

"What will happen if I choose otherwise?"

"Knossos will be ruled by a mad king for a time. Eventually the gods will tire of his excesses and send earthquake and flood to smother all of Crete as punishment and warning to all those who would in their pride seek to set themselves above their fellow man," she replied, unable to repress a shiver of horror.

"And you?"

"If Knossos falls, I have asked the Goddess that she call me to her, so I don't have to witness the death of all I have known." She shut her eyes, as if to shut out the nightmare she had seen, of her city in ruins and her people dying, crushed by the wrath of the immortals she served so faithfully.

Theseus sensed her pain, her fear that he would refuse to help her or the people who had enslaved him, that he would think it only fitting that a civilization which had produced such a monster should sink into the sea forever, destroyed past all redemption. He brought up a hand to touch her face, smoothing the creases of worry from her brow.

"There is no need to fear, Ariadne. I have always obeyed the path the gods have set before me. It was Poseidon's will that I come here. Now I understand why. I am to redeem his honor. And in so doing I will save Knossos. It will be as the gods command."

Relief washed through her like a tidal wave, filling her with renewed hope. For the first time in years she felt the burden she had borne lift from her shoulders. The fate of her people was no longer hers alone to bear, but was now shared between them. Together two of them could do what she might have failed to do alone, bring the mighty Minotauros to his knees and end his mad ambitions for all of time.

Suddenly carefree and light-hearted as a child, she tossed her long braid from her shoulder and smiled at him, a smile that spoke without words the depth of her gratitude. He set his hands on her shoulders, drew her to him and their mouths met in a kiss that was half-gentle and fierce, and all tremulous desire.

Ariadne shivered, but was unwilling to forsake his embrace. It had been so long since she had had anyone to confide in, to lean on. Not since Aegithros's death had she trusted another man with the deepest secrets of her heart. The kiss deepened, and she felt herself falling, her mind linking with his in a blaze of feeling unlike any she had ever known. Overwhelmed, she drowned in a maelstrom of sensation. Only then did she sense the danger in giving herself utterly and irrevocably to this man.

For the link that bound them would accept nothing less than total commitment on both sides, it was a joining not merely of the flesh but of the heart and soul. If she gave in to the longing, it would mean she would be forever open to him, the deepest and most shameful secrets of her heart would be his to know. Never had she put such trust in anyone. And she was suddenly frightened. She was a Cretan, blood of the royal House of Knossos, raised in a culture that considered itself the pinnacle of civilization. She had been born to responsibility, and from the time she was seven years old, she had known her destiny was to serve her people as Priestess and Queen. In those roles she was utterly self-confident, aided by the favor of her Goddess and the birth-given power of the Sight.

But Theseus demanded of her a new role, that of a woman and lover, and here her confidence faltered. Vividly she recalled Cleate's warning of being overwhelmed by passion; her mother had walked that path but once and Minotauros had been the result. From one night of ill-conceived passion had come the ruin of Knossos. And though Theseus was of royal blood, still he was an outsider, and when he had completed his task here, he would leave to rule his own kingdom. He was not a Cretan male, content to sit in the shadow of his wife while she ruled, satisfied to be her consort and nothing more. He was a warrior and a man of vision, it was not in his nature to stay behind the scenes. The knowledge of this was like a bitter drought of medicine lodged in the back of her throat. They belonged to two different worlds, brought together by fate to complete a single task.

She could never belong to him completely, not as she wished. Far better then to leave while she still could, and end this affair before it became too serious. The heart of an empath was too delicate to be broken more than once, and she knew if she stayed he would eventually shatter it into pieces when he left.

Acting swiftly, she broke the kiss, leaving him startled and gasping. Before he could speak, she said, "This thing you feel for me, it cannot ever be. I am a High Priestess, my heart belongs first to my people. There is no room in it for more."

"Why? The priestesses of your order are under no vows of chastity, is it not one of your tenants to celebrate the gift of life? You may be a priestess, Ariadne, but first and foremost you are a woman. Why deny yourself what others before you have not?"

Angry now, she jerked away from him. "I am not like the others. Do not try and compare what you cannot hope to understand. My first duty is to my people, not myself. As yours should be." Almost instantly, she regretted the words, but she had spoken them out of self-preservation, knowing that only with anger could she keep him at bay.

"I know my duty, Ariadne, I don't need a woman barely out of childhood to lecture me on responsibility!" he snapped. "At Poseidon's bidding I gave up my life to become a slave so my people need not suffer. What have you given up, Ariadne?" he demanded softly, his aquamarine eyes as hard as storm capped breakers, probing her relentlessly.

Her chin came up defiantly. "More than you will ever know, Theseus." _I gave up my childhood, my brother, my chance at a normal life. To save my people, I gave up my heart. I am as much a slave as you, if only in a different fashion._

But she did not speak her thoughts aloud, unwilling to give him more of a hold on her than he already had. Fate had dictated that they be partners, it had said nothing of becoming lovers. Rising, she gave him a look worthy of Pasiphae at her haughtiest. "We are all slaves, Prince Theseus, to the gods grand design. Fate has given us our parts, now it is up to us to play them. See to it that you play yours well, for the fate of both our peoples rests on it. Be wary and alert, Minotauros has spies everywhere. Now I must go, before my sudden departure rouses suspicion." Ariadne inclined her head to him in a gesture of respect. "Until the next full moon, prince of Athens."

The turning on her heel, she walked swiftly away, her gilded sandals noiseless as a cat's paws on the tiles, green robes fluttering behind her like the gossamer wings of a monarch butterfly.

He opened his mouth to call her back, wanting to run after her and demand an explanation for her sharp words, but pride made him keep still. She was not like the serving maids and tavern girls he had known, who were content with a night's pleasure and a silver coin on their pillow. She had intelligence and spirit and courage to match that of the boldest warrior. And her sense of obligation was second to none. He managed a wry grin. Stubborn she might be, but she had met her match in him. She might preach about honor and duty coming first, but for a moment in his arms, she had been willing to cast those chains aside.

He would be patient. She was as wary as a roe deer who had scented the presence of hunters and hounds. But he was no stranger to the game of hounds and hare. Sooner or later she would back herself into a corner and then he would show her that there was far more to life than unending duty and obligation. _Priestess you may be, Ariadne, but beneath that green robe beats the heart of a woman. I have only to show it to you._

Flinging his cloak about his shoulders, a half-smile of contemplation on his features, he made his way out of the small courtyard and down a set of stairs to the winding maze of corridors that was the House of the Double Axe and thence to the Bull Court. Ariadne did not realize it yet, but the hunt had just begun, and the first move had been his.


	11. Chapter 10

DEMOSTHONES TREMBLED AS HE stood outside the ornate carved doors leading to Minotauros's private chambers. The heavy wooden paneling was carved with gory scenes of hunting of elk and bear and lions, each represented in reliefs of surprising life likeness. One depicted an elk savaged by a pack of bloodthirsty hounds, another showed a lion stuck with dozens of spears. In the next scene the lion's skin was displayed as a trophy on the king's banquet hall. The last set of reliefs showed the hunting of a bear, where the bear was decapitated by a sword and its living heart cut out of its body to be swallowed whole by the victorious prince. The disturbing carvings were not normally something one would have as a decoration, particularly on the door to one's bedroom. Such scenes hardly inspired one with tenderness towards the opposite sex. But then Minotauros was not likely to take a woman for pleasure, given what he was. Demosthones supposed Minotauros had had the carvings made specifically for the purposes of intimidation and the cravings of a warped spirit.

Right now the carvings served their purpose; seeing them only made the seer more afraid than ever, for the man who waited behind those hideous doors was ten times as cruel and vicious as those depicted on the reliefs. Only a mind of such sadistic cruelty would take pleasure from such images. And now Demosthones must face his master and inform him that his plan to rid Knossos of the upstart Athenian had failed, had in fact been thwarted by the Holy Priestess Ariadne herself.

Swallowing sharply against rising nausea, Demosthones set a hand against the brass handle, curved to resemble an eagle's claw, and shoved. The heavy portal creaked slightly and swung open just enough to admit the seer's quaking frame.

Beyond the huge doors was a veritable haven of luxury such as a pasha of the far-off kingdoms of Arabia would envy. Costly rugs woven in Turkey and Armenia lay scattered about the floor, muffling Demosthones hesitant footsteps. Torches along the walls flooded the room with light as brilliant as day. A large table carved of rare oak from the island kingdom of Albion held the remains of a sumptuous feast, for it was well known that Minotauros ate nothing in public due to his fear of being poisoned. In actuality, it was because the deformity of his jaw made eating difficult and his manner of doing so would have revolted the most tolerant person on Crete, for Minotauros tore at his food in the manner of a wild beast of the fields rather than a man of quality.

At the far end of the sitting chamber was a large stone fireplace, lit and blazing merrily. To the immediate left was a nest of plump silken pillows in purple and red, Minotauros's preferred colors. A low table rested next to them with a chessboard inlaid with ivory and gold upon it. Upon the left hand side of the wall were hung a massive shield of bronze and a short sword and two mighty boar spears of ash.

Demosthones' gaze passed swiftly over them and could not repress a shudder as he vividly imagined himself impaled on one of those spears, his entrails lying in a pool about his feet. At the far end of the room was a heavy curtain of purple brocade. Behind this was Minotauros' bedchamber, a room which not even Demosthones was permitted to enter.

Minotauros was seated in a chair padded in cloth of gold, its back arching up like a king's throne. Two servants hovered over him, shaving and trimming the unruly mop of curls on his head and trimming his fingernails. Minotauros clutched a goblet of wine in one hand, Demosthones wrinkled his nose, for he could smell the drink from across the room. It was plain that the prince of Knossos was well on his way to becoming drunk, a fact which made Demosthones even more nervous, for Minotauros's temper was even more deadly when drunk than when he was sober. Sober, he could at least regain some semblance of control, but drunk all inhibitions fled and he became as ungovernable as a tornado and twice as destructive.

Demosthones paused, hoping to delay the inevitable. But it was too late. Minotauros's beady black eyes had spied him. "Demosthones! Good, you're here. I was just about to summon you." He waved the servants off with one huge paw. "Enough of your snipping and frippery. Away with you now."

The servants were quick to obey, scuttling from the room like crabs fleeing the tide at midnight. The doors banged shut with the finality of a tomb being sealed. Minotauros bared crooked yellow teeth at the seer in what passed for a smile and hissed, "So . . . is the Athenian visiting the Underworld yet?"

Demosthones froze, desperately wanting to grovel on the ground, but he knew better than to show such abject fear to his ruler. The man was drawn to fear and helplessness like sharks were drawn to blood in the water, and any such display would only send him into a frenzy. So the seer drew himself erect, hands folded inside the sleeves of his white robe to hide their trembling. Sweat sheened his brow and dampened his brown curls, but the seer managed to reply in a low voice, "The poison should have worked, my lord, but—"

"What do you mean _should have_?" Minotauros' growled softly, a red light sparkling deep within his eyes. "You assured me that no one could survive the effects of strychnine."

"And no one could." Demosthones hastened to explain before Minotauros's hold on his temper evaporated. "Unless he had help."

"Who?" the word was spat from clenched teeth.

"Your sister, my lord. The Most Holy Priestess Ariadne," the words emerged as little more than a croak.

Minotauros raised his hand, a look of such fury on his face that Demosthones knew his life was ended. The heavy silver goblet flew through the air, striking the wall with such force that it broke. Wine spattered all over the fine carpets, red rivulets flowed like blood down the wall to mingle in a crimson pool on the Turkish rug. Demosthones watched in an agony of horror, every muscle in him screaming to bolt from the room like a hare before Minotauros turned on him and rended him to pieces. But his feet remained frozen to the floor, rendering him as helpless as a mouse before a striking hawk.

Minotauros's eyes fastened on him, glowing red with the heat of his fury. "She dares to thwart me!" he rasped, hatred making his voice harsh. "This time she goes too far. The Athenian insulted the honor of our House, made a fool of me before my whole court! Such insolence must be punished with death! He was mine to kill! Mine!"

Nearly frothing at the mouth, Minotauros rose, towering over his cowering seer, fists clenched. Demosthones closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to fall.

Incredibly, Minotauros restrained himself. "Her rank will not protect her this time. Sweet sister, this time you will pay for your arrogant interference." A cruel smile bloomed on his face. "Pay in blood!"

Demosthones eyes opened wide at that, shock and horror at Minotauros's mad urgings causing him to protest, "But my prince, you talk of murder! And the murder of kin is unpardonable in the eyes of the gods. The Furies will hound you unto death and beyond!"

"Furies be damned!" the prince bellowed. "The witch must die! The only law on Crete must be mine! No more shall men bow to the corrupt whisperings of witch-women and their false Goddess. No more shall I be denied my rightful place as King of Knossos! I shall tear down the temple of the false Earth Mother and build a new one. And it shall be dedicated to me, Minotauros, who is a living god, such as the Egyptians have. But first my meddling sister and her brood of harpies must be slain. Then will none stand in the way of my new realm. And it shall be an age of glory like none has ever seen in all the world."

His eyes blazed with fanatical light, caught up in his megalomaniacal vision. They fastened upon the cringing Demosthones and held him captive with their intensity. "Though you failed in your task, I am feeling merciful. I shall not punish you for your failure . . . this time. But don't fail me again! Now I tell you, find an assassin, I don't care where or how, and pay him as much as he wants. He must make certain he kills her, but in such a way that it cannot be traced back to me. Oh, and make certain he knows not who he is to kill until the final moment. I don't want him to lose his nerve."

Demosthones bowed nearly to the floor. "As you will, my lord."

"Yes. As _I_ will. Not Ariadne. Not my father. As _I will_, Minotauros, Prince of Knossos, as it should always be." One hand reached out, closing on the wine decanter on the table. Minotauros drank noisily, draining the bottle to the dregs in two swallows. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded blearily. "Go!"

Demosthones turned and fled as if the Furies of legend harried his footsteps.

Behind him, Minotauros chuckled, the sound echoing in the chamber like the braying of a penned goat, loud and raucous. The last prince of Knossos settled back in his chair, and proceeded to drain another bottle of Falernian red to the dregs, his mind filled with twisted dreams of conquest. "Soon. Soon," he crooned to himself. "Beware, little Ariadne. Your death approaches."

* * * * * *

Unaware of her brother's mad scheme, Ariadne continued her daily routine in the temple, struggling to remain focused on her duties as High Priestess. But even her thoughts turned traitor, casting images of Theseus before her. Endlessly she replayed the curving graceful leap as he flew over the great white horns, arcing as easily as a crane in flight, his sun-bronzed body bent like a bow, golden hair gleaming in the sun. Irritably, she shook her head. _Fool! _ she berated herself silently. _I've become as obsessed with him as Phaedra. This must stop. Longing for what can never be will bring only sorrow. Oh, Mother, I need your guidance more than ever. Is this what you want for me? Am I meant to love this Athenian bull leaper, once a prince of Athens? Is that what the vision in the pool meant? _Ariadne bowed her head in prayer.

But the Goddess remained silent, deaf to her Chosen's plea. By this Ariadne knew she was meant to find her own answers. Another woman might have railed against the Goddess' cruelty in not granting her an answer to her dilemma, but Ariadne knew better. You sought advice from the gods, but that didn't mean you would always get an answer. Sometimes the immortals wished you to find your own answer, for only in doing so would you discover the truth. It was so now. She must choose whether to reject or accept Theseus on her own.

Frustrated, she suddenly longed to break something, but such behavior would not be considered seemly among the highest-ranking priestess in the temple. So she chose the only other available option. She went down to the stables and saddled her stallion Arion and went for a ride along the beach.

Once upon Arion's back, her troubles seemed to fade from her like stars on a stormy night. The flame-colored horse raced with effortless abandon, his hooves kicking up spurts of sand as he ran. His long mane whipped into her eyes, but she only laughed and leaned closer to his neck, her cheek caressed by his soft hide, sleek from many hours of currying by the horse-boys. Wind-born tears blurred her vision for an instant, and she savored this time alone.

It had been many months since she had ridden the big horse, not since her father had fallen ill and taken to his bed. Legs gripping the horse's mighty flanks, she rode with the careless abandon of one who has long since mastered the rapport of an expert rider with her chosen mount. Her fingers twined in his silky mane, she whispered, "My Arion, I've missed you. It's been too long."

The red horse snorted in answer, his finely chiseled head stretched out, nostrils sucking in the salt laden air in great gulps. Ariadne quickly lost herself in the rhythm of the horse's strides, which were even and smooth as water flowing over sand. She loved Arion fiercely, he was the last gift she had received from her brother Aegithros before he had sailed away to Athens to meet his death upon a jealous baron's spear. Riding the stallion always seemed to bring her closer to her brother, almost as if a part of him lived within the swift horse. All the tension flowed from her, all the hours of fear and worry over what Minotauros might do when her father was dead faded from her, lost in the drumming of Arion's hooves over the sand and the soft hush of the waves on the shore.

For a moment nothing else existed save herself and Arion, and they were linked by her Gift, so that they were a single entity rather than horse and rider.

She never noticed the stealthily figure that crept from above, slipping down from the cliffs like a shadow fleeing the approaching dawn. Fluid and silent, the assassin stalked her, one gloved hand closing about the thin reed of a blow gun.

Hard eyes studied her crouched form, noting the vulnerability of her position. One hand closed over a pouch at his belt, and withdrew with exquisite care a tiny blue-feathered dart, its tip dipped in the deadly toxin of a puffer fish. The poison would kill within minutes, and best of all it left the victim looking as if she had fallen into a deep sleep, with no traces of a struggle about her. Her death would be attributed to natural causes with nothing to lead back to Minotauros. Gently, he inserted the dart into the hollow reed.

Then, just as he fitted the reed to his mouth, a gust of wind blew his target's hair back from her face, revealing the high cheekbones and sea-green eyes that were the legacy of the royal house. A gasp ripped from the black clad assassin's lips. The man who had hired him had said nothing of killing a priestess, much less the most powerful priestess in all of Crete. One hand dropped to the pouch at his neck, shaking it slightly. A musical clink rang out, muffled by the leather. A wealth of gold was in that pouch, enough for him to live out the rest of his days as a rich man. The amount had surprised him at first, but he never questioned the payment he was offered. His patrons were often touchy. But having seen his target, the gold seemed pitifully small, for even a king's ransom would not be enough to save him from the gods' retributive wrath, as they would surely seek revenge for slaying their Chosen.

"You interfere where you have no right," a voice whispered from the air.

A cold shiver racked him, and he turned about, the blood turning to ice in his veins.

He stared into a pair of blazing amber eyes. A tall figure shrouded in the shadow that was his mastery crouched next to him, possessed of unearthly beauty, and a presence that glowed as bright as the noon sun despite his shroud of darkness. One hand came up, quicker than the eye could follow, to clutch the blow gun in an implacable grip. Try as he might, the assassin could not move. His voice deserted him as well, mute, he could only nod at the Master of Shadows, the immortal Hermes, patron of thieves.

Amber eyes burned with sudden fury, reducing him to a puddle of quivering jelly. "Hear me well, mortal. The one you seek is under my protection. By the decree of Zeus Almighty, no harm shall come to Dia's Chosen daughter. Desist, else your life is forfeit."

"Lord—!" the assassin choked, falling face first on the ground. "Grant me mercy! I did not know!"

"For that reason alone, you still breathe. If you would live to spend your gold, leave now and do not look back. And if you value your soul, speak of this to no one. May Nemesis cast her cloak over you!" Hermes declared, baring his teeth in a carnivorous smile.

The god's compulsion washed over him in a dizzying wave. Helpless before the onslaught, the assassin staggered to his feet, clutching the pouch about his neck as if it were a talisman. Eyes bulging with terrified awe, he fled, the surf muffling the scrape of his boots over the rock. Within minutes, he had vanished over the crest of the hill.

The Master of Shadows laughed softly. That one would run and keep running. Amber eyes sought the slender woman crouched low on her horse's neck, unaware of her peril moments before. Hair the color of a moonless night streamed behind her like dark wings, combed by the wind into wild snarls. A smile touched the lips of the youthful god. The promise of beauty he had seen in the coltish child had been fulfilled. No wonder Theseus was so distracted. She possessed beauty enough to rival Aphrodite, or so it seemed. _If her destiny was not so entwined with Theseus's, I might try to win her for myself. _Hermes thought with a pang of longing. Then he shrugged. Not even a god could change fate. Still, it would have been fun to try. _Until next time, Ariadne_. Then he grinned and vanished in a cloud of golden sparkles, his task complete for the moment.

Unfortunately, Ariadne's reverie was not to last. When at last she turned Arion's steps homeward, full of a contentment she had not experienced since before Aegithros died, a messenger accosted her, breathless, before the temple steps. "Lady, please come! The king demands your presence immediately."

Ariadne started. "The king? But last I saw he was too ill to talk much less hold an audience. His condition has improved then?" The moment the words left her mouth, she knew them to be false hope. Her Gift could not lie. The king was no better, would never be better. That he sent a messenger with such haste to summon her to his side could mean but one thing.

The trembling boy's words to her a moment later revealed her fears. "No, Lady. He is not better." His voice lowered to a bare whisper. "Daedelus bids you hurry. He says His Majesty will soon join the gods."

Ariadne nodded, then gathered her skirts round her ankles and set off for the palace at a dead run. People stared in astonishment, for they had never seen their High Priestess move with such haste. Muttering and speculation rose in the air until the whole city was humming like a hive of bees. Ariadne was oblivious to the stares and gossip. Only one thing mattered now. She must reach her father before he breathed his last. She sensed that it was crucial for her to do so, not just out of filial duty and love, but for a reason far greater. Somehow, the event which would occur before Minos's death was paramount to her fulfilling the prophecy spoken so long ago, that she would be savior of Knossos.

Up the marble stairs she raced, past the startled guards, and into the cool interior of the grand Palace. Without pausing for breath, she turned a corner, her feet flying over the tiles as if she bore wings. Then down the hall and to the right until she came to a heavy wooden portal bound in gold. The two sentries on duty bowed low to her, but she spared them not a glance. She shoved open the heavy portal and entered, shutting the door immediately after.

The king lay swathed in heavy blankets, sitting upright, but laboring for breath. His skin had gone a pasty white and his eyes were a faded blue, utterly unlike the deep sapphire she remembered from her childhood. His skin was stretched over his cheekbones and there were lines etched in his forehead and around his mouth. His dark hair hung lank and dull around his shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat. The robust king of her youth was gone, in its place hovered a wraith, drained utterly of vitality and youth. The poison had conquered him at last. 

Beside him hovered his faithful friend Daedelus, holding in his hands a carved rosewood box.

Ariadne immediately went to the bed and knelt beside him, one hand reaching out to clasp the king's wasted one. Her healer's sense told her immediately that he was irrevocably near death. "Father? You wished to see me?"

"Yes," Minos spoke softly, his voice a bare croak utterly unlike his former robust tone. "I promised your mother that I would see you well-provided for before I died."

"Well-provided for?" Ariadne's brows creased in puzzlement. "I don't understand."

The king smiled gently and patted her hand as if soothing a restless child. "You will," he motioned to Daedelus. "Daedelus, show her."

Daedelus opened the carved box and removed an object wrapped in green silk. He handed the silken-wrapped package to the king. With hands that shook in spite of himself, Minos unwrapped it.

Ariadne gasped.

For on the king's outstretched palms lay the gold Serpent Crown, the crown that only one anointed Queen could wear. It was a deceptively simple tiara, a circle of pure gold with a snake head rearing up in the center set with precious rubies and emeralds. It was the symbol of the monarchs of Crete, a gift from the Goddess herself to the ruling house for time out of mind.

"Ariadne, daughter of Pasiphae," Minos began, his voice suddenly acquiring the rich timbre she remembered. "By the powers appointed me by Poseidon Sea Lord, I do name you my heir and successor. Do you consider yourself worthy of this great responsibility?" he intoned the beginning of the ceremony of rulership that made his chosen heir Queen of Knossos.

"I am not worthy, Your Majesty, but by Poseidon's Grace I shall strive to rule with honesty and justice." Ariadne answered, speaking words long since learned by heart. Traditionally, the crowning of the heir was done before a great audience, held in the Great Hall, with much pomp and ceremony. But Ariadne understood the need for secrecy. At her words, a gold aura spread over the crown. Ariadne's eyes widened, but she said nothing. Minos seemed not to notice, his whole attention was focused on her.

Minos inclined his head. Knuckles whitening on the golden circlet, he drew a shuddering breath and continued. "By Poseidon's Grace you shall rule well. Will you also rule with compassion equally among high and low? For a ruler's first thought must be with her people always. Are you worthy to listen to your people?"

" I am not, Your Majesty, but by the Mother's Grace, I shall strive to do so always. My people shall be heard with compassion." This time the ruby eyes seemed to glow with green light.

"By Dia's Grace you shall rule well." Minos said softly. His breathing was becoming shorter, he struggled to speak, but at last gathered all of his strength and intoned, "Ariadne, daughter of Pasiphae, a ruler must have courage above all. To be Queen is to sacrifice all. Are you worthy to lead your people?"

Again, Ariadne answered. "I am not, Your Majesty, but by Zeus's Grace I shall be a brave warrior. My people's safety before my own, for to sacrifice is to love." Now the crown burst into fiery splendor, a rainbowed corona of light, a sign of the gods' approval of Minos's choice. Beside her, Daedelus gasped in awe, for never had the crown responded thus to an heir apparent.

"Then by the authority given me by Olympus, I Minos, King of Knossos and Crete, do so crown you, Ariadne of the House of Minos, Queen of Knossos and Crete." Minos lifted the circlet and set it upon her brow. The fiery nimbus haloed her face in brilliant light as the gods showed their acceptance of Knossos's new ruler. "By Olympus's Grace, may your reign be long and prosperous, as befits a true Queen!"

The crown upon her brow suddenly felt heavy as a mountain, but there was also a strange peace about it, a sense of utter rightness. This was her destiny, for now and forever more. As her mother before her, she was now Priestess-Queen of Knossos, ruler of Crete, sanctioned by the gods.

For only the rightful heir could wear the Serpent Crown and rule wisely. An unsanctioned heir would inevitably fail and his kingdom would fall with him.

"Daedelus, my friend . . .bear witness." Minos ordered, racked by sudden chills.

"Heard and witnessed, may all the gods strike me down if I lie." Daedelus cried. He knelt before her, one hand over his heart. "Your servant, my Queen."

"No, never that, Daedelus," Ariadne said quickly, for the sight of her old tutor kneeling before her unnerved her more than she could bear. "Rise, my friend. Like my father before me, I would name you friend and Chief Advisor, if you will do me the honor of accepting."

"With all my heart, Your Majesty." Daedelus smiled and rose.

"Good." Minos whispered, coughing suddenly. Ariadne put her arms about him, steadying him. She was shocked to discover how frail he was; a strong wind could blow him away, he was nothing but skin over bone. "Now . . .you are Queen . . .as the gods decreed. . .my promise kept ." One hand reached up to caress her hair, a gesture of tenderness that he had not given her since Pasiphae's death. "Rule well . . .little falcon . . .all Crete depends on you." His voice was a rasp of sound, she had to lean forward to hear him. "Remember . . .love . . . Ariadne!"

"I will." she promised. Her hand closed over his with tender force. Two tears slipped from her eyes to fall upon his upturned face. "I love you, Father."

"Don't cry . . .it is my time . . ." Minos suddenly stiffened and she beheld an unearthly glow about him. "Pasiphae!" he cried out, his eyes fixed upon someone even she could not see.

Then his breath abruptly stilled. The hand she held went slack and he fell back upon the bed in a boneless heap, his spirit flown to the realms of the Underworld, reunited at long last with his beloved wife.

"He is at peace now." Daedelus murmured, his head bowed.

Ariadne could only nod. Tenderly, she laid the last King of Knossos back upon the bed. Her hand smoothed his forehead, closing his sightless eyes. At last she drew the coverlet over his head. Attendants would come later to wash and dress the body for burial. Announcements would have to be made, and there was the funeral procession to be seen to. It would be close to sunset before the last king of Crete was laid to his final rest in the marble crypt of his ancestors. Then too, there would be Minotauros to contend with; his rage would know no bounds when he discovered her crowned Queen and at last in a position to thwart his mad desires.

She was the sole ruler of Knossos now. She would try to do the best she could, as she had vowed before the gods. Suddenly the task before her seemed enormous, overwhelming. Her emerald eyes flicked once over the still figure shrouded in the royal blue blanket. Now at last she understood the often careworn look her father had worn; at the time she had assumed it was from boredom, but now she knew it had been the weight of responsibility that hung always about a monarch's head. _I have trained for this my whole life. I always knew this day would come. Now that it has, why do I feel so afraid, so inadequate? Was this how you and Mother felt when you assumed your crowns? But no, you had each other to lean on. I am alone now. Truly alone._

Suddenly it struck her, like a bolt of divine skyfire. All of her family was gone, all save Phaedra, and she was naught but a spoiled child too self-absorbed to ever be a decent leader. And Minotauros was her avowed enemy. She had no one to lean on but herself. Loneliness rose up in a choking wave. First Pasiphae, then Aegithros, now Minos. All had died, leaving only her to face Minotauros. Ariadne, Queen of Knossos. _Father, come back! _ her heart cried in sudden panic. _I'm not ready to be Queen. I'm not worthy!_ Her breath caught on a sob. She smothered her tears in the sleeve of her robe as fear of inadequacy to rule gave way to grief.

Abruptly, she felt arms close about her, slight yet sinewy. Her tear-filled eyes met those of Daedelus, architect and friend, now her Chief Advisor. He said nothing, only held her close as she wept, performing the first unwritten duty of an advisor, that of comforting his new queen.

**So how did you like this one? **


	12. Chapter 11

"COME AND JOIN ME," Minotauros beckoned to the seer. The misshapen prince sprawled in his throne-like chair, already on his third bottle of Falernian red. Demosthones hid a grimace, not wanting to inhale the potent fumes that spewed from his master's mouth. But drunk as he was, Minotauros would not be denied. The seer approached hesitantly, picking up a goblet and filling it half-full with the sour vintage. He sipped without enthusiasm.

Minotauros belched loudly and bared his teeth in a drunken smile. "Drink up, Demosthones!" he bellowed, fetching the slender seer a clout on the shoulder that almost knocked him over. "Our hour is at hand! At last Minos, may the Furies rend him for eternity, has gone to Hades! And my darling sister is by now staring down the blade of an assassin's knife. All is ready for my rise to power." He drained the bottle, then tossed it to lie in a shattered heap with the remains of two others. "Knossos does not know it, but it has a new King! One who will be sole ruler over all of Crete, and cast down the order of witches who have held us in thrall for centuries! The worship of the Accursed Dia ends tonight!"

Demosthones blanched. "But, my lord, surely the people will never permit the destruction of the Mother's temple. It is sacred."

Minotauros snorted in amused condescension. "What care I for the wants of the people? All my life the House of Minos has catered to the whims of the arrogant, self-serving mob, and what has it got them? Bound like slaves to a demanding master. Pah! I will have none of it. Mine will be the sole voice, and the people will come before me as suppliants and be grateful that I grant them their lives."

Demosthones shuddered, and promptly hid his distaste for his mad prince in a sudden swallow of wine. Bitterly now did he regret binding himself to the power-crazed man, whose mad vision would now topple centuries of culture in one fell swoop. Once he had thought he could manipulate the ambitious prince, steer him to a safer course. Too late, he realized that Minotauros was too single-minded to be swayed by any other vision save his own. And the mad prince had turned the once-gentle seer into a murderer and a traitor. Despairing, Demosthones cast his gaze upward. _Mother, what have I done? In seeking to cage a beast, I have instead set him loose. And now all of Knossos shall pay the price. I have betrayed all I held dear, and now we shall perish!_

Just then a knock came upon the door. "Get it!" Minotauros ordered irritably.

Demosthones did so, astonished to find a pale-faced messenger at the door. "Yes, what is it? He's in one of his moods today, so be swift about it!"

The words the messenger spoke made the seer go pale beneath his dusky tan. Biting back a gasp, Demosthones bid the messenger go. There was no need for a boy to suffer the results of his folly. He watched the lad scamper back down the hall and wished he might follow him. But he closed the portal with a heavy heart. If nothing else, he could delay Minotauros's mad rage. Only fitting that he play sacrificial goat, as it was he who had set the deranged youth on this path of ruin.

"Well?" Minotauros looked up blearily from his bottle. "What's the matter? Got no stomach for wine? You're pale as a ghost, man! What'd the fool have to say?"

Demosthones reached out a hand, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. "My lord, he bid me tell you that King Minos's funeral will be held at sunset. And . . ." his voice faltered. "By the command of Her Majesty, Queen Ariadne, all citizens of Knossos shall attend." He finished in a whisper.

Minotauros blinked stupidly. "Ariadne? But Ariadne's dead! The assassin killed her."

"That was what I thought—"

"You _thought?_" Minotauros roared, a dull red flush surging into his face. The half-finished bottle flew across the room to shatter on the stone floor. "You're not supposed to think, you fool! _You were supposed to make sure!_"

"But a member of the Brotherhood of Night never fails," the seer began, backing away.

"Lies! All lies! The witch lives!" Foam flecked his thick lips and his huge hands balled into fists. "And you say she is _Queen_! By whose hand?"

"Minos's, my lord. Last evening he crowned her in front of Daedelus, just before he expired." Demosthones said softly, unable to keep the approval out of his voice. Ariadne lived and was in a position to check her mad brother. Minotauros might yet be stopped and Knossos saved.

Minotauros's head came up, and the incoherent fury burning in his dark eyes made Demosthones' hope die stillborn. "It matters not. Queen or no queen, I shall slay her." He wrenched his heavy sword down from the wall, madness glittering in a tangible wave from his eyes. "I shall begin my reign in blood, as the kings of old!"

"No!" Demosthones cried, horror making him bold. "You must not let them think you are unable to control yourself. Not until you wear the crown," the seer began, using his most soothing tones. Slowly, Minotauros lowered the sword, some of the madness fading. "If you kill Ariadne in front of witnesses, all Crete will turn against you for the sin of fratricide. The Furies will torment you for ages for that crime." Demosthones continued, daring to hope that the prince might see reason. Minotauros seemed to be considering his words. "Wait, my lord. Your time will come. I have seen it. You will rule Knossos still, my prince."

"Of course I shall," Minotauros purred in a deadly growl that brought Demosthones's head up in sudden fear. "A pity you won't be there to see it."

"Are you sending me somewhere, my lord?" the seer asked, wondering if the fates could be so kind.

Minotauros grinned evilly. "Why, yes, my friend. I'm sending you to join my dear departed father—in Hades!" He sprang forward, the short sword whistling down in a shrieking arc.

Demosthones ducked and flung himself under the table with reflexes born of sheer terror. Even as he did so he knew it was hopeless, like the last doomed struggle of the deer before the hounds tear it to pieces. He could not avoid Minotauros's blade forever, sooner or later he would miscalculate. _Lady Dia, make it quick_, he prayed, as the sword bit into the table.

Grunting with effort, Minotauros wrenched it free. "You have failed me one time too many, seer! Now you will reap the rewards of your stupidity."

The table flew over with a crash, leaving Demosthones horribly exposed. He crouched, paralyzed with fear, like a bat hypnotized by bright light, he saw Minotauros lift the blade above his head.

The mad prince laughed, enjoying the terror in the other's face. A sudden cruel light came into his eyes. "You owe me blood, seer." He hissed, one hand coming down to grip the helpless Cretan by the throat, cutting off his breath. "And I'm calling in my debt."

The sword rose and fell, and blood spattered over the white tunic like rain. Demosthones could not even scream. The Goddess had turned Her face from him. His death would not be quick, but long and agonizing. He had forgotten how Minotauros loved to rip the legs off insects and drown kittens for fun, smiling all the while.

Grinning in anticipation, the prince raised the sword again. "I wonder how much blood is in the human body, Demosthones? Shall we find out?"

This time the seer did not disappoint his prince. He took a long time to die.

* * * * * *

Theseus swung lightly on the wooden bull's horns, arcing up to a handstand, then vaulting smoothly over the painted animal's back to land lightly on the sand. One lesson Krispos had drummed into his head that he took to heart was the constant need to practice, over and over, until the moves of the dance were learned by heart. Theseus had seen what carelessness had cost other bull dancers. One and all they had ended crippled or mangled beneath the massive hooves on the unforgiving arena sands. He had vowed to Poseidon that such would never happen to him or any of his team.

Thus he drove himself and his team through endless rounds of practice sessions, making certain that the mistakes made on the wooden bull were not repeated in the arena with a ruthlessness that surprised even Krispos. The Head Trainer never needed to ply his switch with the Athenians for laziness; Theseus's tongue was a far more effective lash than any willow switch. The Ospreys worked longer and harder than any other team of the Bull Court, and thanks to Theseus's demanding sessions, suffered the least injuries. In four months, the team had only suffered minor sprains and bruises and not one fatality. It was an unheard of record for the newest team to survive so long without losing a single member to misfortune or carelessness. Krispos was so amazed that he even jokingly offered Theseus his position as Head Trainer. "If I ever retire, lad, I'll know who my successor will be."

Theseus shook his head, having come to like the bluff Cretan, who reminded him of his grandfather's old swordmaster. "Not a chance, Krispos. It's hard enough being responsible for my own team, let alone all the rest."

"If anyone could do it better, you could, Theseus. You've the Sea Lord's own luck about you."

Theseus merely shrugged and went back to his tumbling exercises. He knew that his performance owed more to grueling hours of practice than it did to being Poseidon's Chosen, though he never neglected to thank the god after each dance. By now all the Athenians were limber and quick on their feet, and even the women were rangy with muscle, as sleek as leopards on the hunt. Pyrrha once remarked laughingly that if her father were to see her now, he'd take her for an Amazon warrior instead of the weaver's daughter. Even little Thea said shyly that her mother would think she'd birthed a boy were she to see her child now, brown from the sun and as muscular as any lad who worked the fishing boats on the Aegean.

Beyond the physical, however, there was another deeper bond that all of them shared. It was one of friendship and community. Bound by oath at first; during the long months that followed, the oath gave way to friendship and a loyalty that transcended mortal conventions. Quarrel and tease among themselves they might, but if another bull dancer dared to make sport of them, watch out. A pack of wild dogs would have been easier to face down than the Ospreys in a temper. The closeness pleased Theseus, for he knew that one day soon their loyalty to one another would be tested, when at last Poseidon bid him leave the Bull Court and return to Athens. And he was concerned that upon their return, the young men and women would not be received with the same appreciation that they had known before their time in the Bull Court. For these were not the same boys and maids who had set sail to Crete moaning and bewailing their fate. Now they returned home as bull dancers, confident and full of pride, and second to no one. What would their families make of them then? He hoped, for all of their sakes, that the transition would be gentle, though he feared it would not be, especially for the girls, who had tasted the freedom of Cretan women and now would not be content with less.

_Ah, well, it will be as the gods will. No sense worrying about tomorrow before today,_ the Athenian prince thought, brushing sweat-dampened hair from his eyes. The sun was brutally hot today. He must remind his team to drink plenty of water. Flexing hands now rough with new calluses, he prepared to vault over the bull's horns again, when a tap on the shoulder from Amnerion brought him to a halt. Irritated at the interruption, he turned to give his former guard captain the rough edge of his tongue, but the delight in Amnerion's gaze halted any angry words.

"Theseus, didn't you hear the news? The whole city's talking about it."

"Talking about what? I've been working myself to the bone while you've been lazing around listening to gossip," Theseus said with mock-sternness.

Amnerion smiled. "Don't be such a grouch. I practice as much as you do and you damn well know it. It's just not a religious devotion for me like it is for you."

"I am not religiously devoted to the bull dance—" Theseus began hotly.

"Well if it's not religion then it must be perfection, because all the gods know you've always been first in everything," the guard captain returned with an insolent wink.

"Just tell me, Amnerion, before I strangle it out of you." Theseus threatened, his blue eyes darkening.

"Gods, but you're too damn serious for your own good," his friend grumbled. "Too bad there isn't a pool near here. A good ducking would knock the pride right out of you. You're beginning to sound like your grandfather."

"The hell I am." Theseus protested. "Pittheus didn't know the meaning of a smile. He was grimmer than Hades."

"Don't look now, but I think you're growing a scowl as we speak. Didn't your mother ever tell you that if you kept frowning your face would freeze like that?"

Theseus gave in then and smiled. "Poseidon have mercy, Amnerion. When will you ever learn to be serious?"

"When it's my life or yours," Amnerion answered. It was a line he'd often quoted before, and Theseus knew he meant it. He'd trust the dark-haired swordsman with his life.

"Amnerion."

Sensing he'd pushed his friend as far as he could, Amnerion relented. "All right, my impatient prince. Last night while we were sleeping the sleep of the terminally exhausted, King Minos died. But before he did, he named his daughter as his heir and he crowned her Queen of Knossos."

"Gods of Olympus! Do you know what this means?" Theseus cried.

"I know that Minotauros isn't very happy about it. Rumor has it that he killed his seer for merely informing him of the bad news." Amnerion said, his voice turning serious. "If I were Ariadne, I'd watch my back."

"Minotauros would not dare harm her now." Theseus snarled.

"That one would dare anything, my friend." Amnerion shook his head in warning. "A mad beast fears neither gods nor man."

_Someday he will learn to fear _**me**, the Athenian prince thought, surprising himself at the sudden savagery that arose in him at the mere thought of Ariadne being in danger from Minotauros. "Where is she now?"

"Preparing for her father's funeral, no doubt." Amnerion answered. Then, seeing the determination on his friend's face, he added, "You'd never get near her now, Theseus. She's surrounded by half the population of Knossos. It's been over a decade since a new Queen's been crowned. They'll be all over her like barnacles on a scow."

But Theseus shook his head stubbornly. "That doesn't matter. She needs me."

"For what? A cheering section?" Amnerion demanded, growing more than a little irritated with his friend's obsession with the High Priestess. "Come on, Theseus, talk sense. You've been mooning over her ever since we set foot in the temple. Let her go. Obsession's unhealthy, you know that?"

"It isn't obsession, Amnerion," the gold-haired prince snapped. "It's more like destiny. Yes, I know I sound like an idiot, but I can't explain it any better than that. Last night I dreamed of her. Not like _that,_" he snarled at Amnerion's knowing grin. "But it was more vision than dream. She was upset, weeping, though I didn't know why. Her pain . . .I felt it like it was my own. I tried to reach out to her, to comfort her, but I couldn't reach her. Then I woke up. But the dream stayed with me. I can feel her even now . . . confused and sad and lost. Surrounded by people, yet still so alone." The Athenian's aquamarine eyes grew suddenly distant as if he saw things beyond mortal sight. "She needs me, Amnerion. I _know_ it. I must see her tonight, after the funeral."

Amnerion gaped at him. "After the—Theseus, are you out of your mind! What makes you think she'll see you? From what you told me after you last saw her, you didn't part with kisses and flowers. And now she's the Queen. She could order you killed if you get her angry enough."

"She's not like Minotauros. Not at all. Please, Amnerion. I don't care what you do. I'll grant you any favor you like once we're back in Athens, just have her meet me tonight. I'm asking you as your friend, not your prince."

"Damn, but I think you're in love with her!" Amnerion exclaimed. "All right, I'll do it. But you'll owe me big this time. Just like the time I told your grandfather I took the sloop out and smashed it when it was really your idea so you could go to the festival and kiss Myrna the gardener's daughter. Remember?"

"Fine! I'll play servant for you for a month this time. Warrior's oath on it. Is that enough or do you want me to swear in blood?"

"No, you'll need every drop of blood if you're going to face her again. I hear she's got claws like a she-leopard." Amnerion waved away his prince's dagger. "Just remember, this was _your_ idea."

But he was speaking to the air, for Theseus had returned to his vaulting sequence. Swearing at the whims of lovesick fools, Amnerion went off in search of Calin, a palace page who was more streetwise than a gutter rat, and who Amnerion had befriended with a chance gift of a gold bracelet. If anyone would be able to get a message to Ariadne without being seen it was Calin. Amnerion sighed. _The things I do for friendship. Mother have mercy, but when will he learn that he's **not** a prince here? It doesn't matter if he **is **in love with her, queens don't marry bull leapers._

* * * * * *

The funeral seemed to go on for eternity, but in reality Ariadne knew it lasted only three hours, as was proper. She presided over it, as was her right as High Priestess. The day was blindingly hot and in her heavy ceremonial green robes she felt as if she were smothering. Sweat soaked her undershift and clung to her body, making her long to go and jump into the harbor. Only the fact that she was in public prevented her from following that impulse. Even worse than her gown was the fact that her long hair was piled up atop her head in a royal coronet formed of dozens of braids upon which was clasped the Serpent Crown. The weight of all that hair made her head ache and she wished suddenly that she was once more a child of seven who could gleefully yank her braids free and let her long hair fly unbound in the wind.

She stood upon the high dais in the great courtyard, where scores of her people gathered before her wearing traditional mourning veils and black armbands. Her under-priestesses had already lit the two great braziers to either side of her and chanted the ritual prayers and tossed in the appointed amount of incense. Strangely, the incense was making her feel lightheaded, or perhaps it was the weight of all that hair. Sudden weariness swamped her and it was all she could do to remain upright. Her eyes scanned the crowd, picking out Daedelus immediately and then Phaedra, dressed in her finest bodice and skirt, tears making her eye makeup run beneath her veil. Her hair was also upswept, but in a more sedate style, as befitted a mourning princess. She had wanted a more exuberant style, more fitting for a courtesan than a young girl, but Ariadne had firmly put down that notion, amid fresh bouts of tears and hysterics, which she ignored through gritted teeth, determined that she would not lose her temper on her father's funeral and slap the silly child into next week. But oh, how she longed to do so!

Directly in front of the dais where Minos had stood for public announcements was the bier with the king's body upon it dressed in his finest linen tunic and purple robe trimmed with cloth of gold. Gold sandals laced up his feet and he wore a clever copy of the Serpent Crown upon his graying locks. His eyes, having been sewn shut by the undertaker, remained peacefully closed, giving the onlookers the illusion that he merely slept upon the cold stone slab. Ariadne felt a fresh pang of remorse, for this was the first funeral procession where she could remember having a body to preside over; at Aegithros's they had been unable to recover the body in time for the funeral. At the four corners of the bier were four guards, spears held upright, the Guardians of Honor, handpicked from among her father's Royal Guards, dressed in their best bronze armor, red cloaks fluttering in the breeze.

Ariadne lifted her arms in the opening invocation to the Goddess. "Mother, we call on You now in our time of need. One lies here who was once a king and our beloved sovereign. We ask You now to accept him into Your embrace, for in Your arms are we born to this world and in Your embrace we leave it. Mother Dia, Bright Lady of Earth, welcome home Your son, Minos!"

The crowd bowed its head muttering the traditional response: "Mother hear us!"

Ariadne closed her eyes, bringing her arms down and holding them out before her, palms down. Now she invoked her Gift, calling on her Goddess to sanctify this ritual, and accept Minos's spirit into the Realm of the Dead where he could be reunited with his beloved Pasiphae. Green light sprang from her fingers, and hovered over the body, outlining it with green flame. Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief. The Goddess had heard her Chosen and had answered.

"All praise to the Mother, for She has called home Her son." Ariadne cried, feeling her Gift wash through her, rejuvenating her with the life force of the earth itself. "But mourn not, for in life Minos was a merry soul, a lover of parties and feasts and fine drink. Thus, in honor of his life, I say to you, let us celebrate with a feast," she gestured to the long tables set up on the great hill and inside the hall groaning with food. "And games to remind us that though Minos is no longer among the living, we who live celebrate his memory!"Her other arm gestured to the hard packed sand where the funeral games would take place, where any could compete for the prizes, which were many and lavish, among them the king's chariot horses, a fine robe of silk from a land far to the East, a chest of gold, and Minos's own bow and arrows.

"Now go, people of Knossos, and mourn as you will. But remember, though Minos is gone, he has named me, Ariadne, as Priestess-Queen of Knossos, to rule in his stead!"

The crowd roared its approval in a deafening shriek. "Hail Ariadne, Queen of Knossos! May she reign long and well!"

Ariadne was surprised at the display of approval, having never sought her people's favor as Phaedra did, or been overly concerned with propriety, as were most noble Cretan ladies. She had simply been who and what she was, Chosen of the Mother. Some of the choking cloud of grief receded, carried away by the crowd's joyous acceptance of their new ruler. Until she caught out of the corner of her eye, a figure shrouded in a blue cloak standing on the edge of the crowd near the dais. She did not need to see beneath the hood to feel the hatred that emanated from his gaze, and all her earlier pleasure fled, leaving only the dry taste of fear. Minotauros.

Sudden anger flared in her. How dare he? She was Queen by right and the gods decree. How dare he in his mad pride presume to usurp her title? She lifted her head, green eyes lightning with fury, and glared down at him with all the presence she had learned in her years as High Priestess. _Beware, my brother. Your thoughts betray you. Harm me and you will bring the wrath of the gods down upon Knossos, _she sent, for the first time voluntarily touching her brother's thoughts.

The blood and madness in them nearly caused her to swoon, only by gripping the pole of one of the braziers was she able to remain on her feet. His emotions were as volatile as a volcano and as destructive. _Somehow, I must check him, before he is totally beyond my control. But how? Any move I make to restrain him might well set him off, and once that happens it may well end in death._ Then her resolve firmed. _So be it. The Bull and the Stallion shall meet, but only the Falcon shall decide who lives. And I have decided._

Her eyes sought now the bright flare of golden hair which stood out like a beacon from her ebony haired subjects. But to her dismay he was not among them. Almost she came down off the dais in search of him; remembering just in time that she must stay until the funeral games were over and the procession had interred the king in the royal tomb. Her hands clenched on the fabric of her robe, crumpling it in her impatience.

The crowd was starting to disperse, some going to the feasting tables and others to the arena where the games were held. Suddenly, a small hand tugged on the hem of her robe. Looking down, Ariadne beheld the impish face of one of the palace pages. "What is it, Calin?"

"Your Majesty, I bear a message," Calin bowed low, holding out a slip of rolled up parchment. "The man who sends it bids you remember the banquet of Minotauros."

Ariadne frowned, puzzled, but then sudden comprehension flooded her. "Thank you, Calin! Now go on and join the feast. Boys like you are always hungry."

"As Your Majesty commands," the imp grinned and scampered off quicker than a monkey.

Ariadne smiled, tucking the message in her sleeve. She would read it later in the privacy of her chamber at the temple. There was no doubt in her mind who the message was from. Even at this distance she could feel the bond between them grow taut with his longing.

* * * * * *

The stars had just begun to emerge, scattering their minute pinpoints of light across the indigo sky when Theseus climbed up the crumbling stairs to the secluded temple courtyard of the High Priestess. The moon was a half circle in the heavens, a sign that portended well for his meeting. A smile touched his face as he remembered the sealed message Amnerion had handed to him after supper that night, a supper that was better than usual on account of the funeral feast for Minos, on which no expense had been spared. But Theseus had scarcely tasted the broiled lobster and baked clams, mint-roasted lamb, cheese and other delicacies. His only thought was for Ariadne and the need he felt from her. As soon as he was able, he left the sumptuous dining hall and retired to his room, where he had waited an agonizingly long time for the sun to set. When at last it sank into the sea, he was out the door, slipping by the posted guards with childish ease down one of the many small side passages that honeycombed the Maze, which the bull dancers had taken to calling the Labyrinth, for so it was to anyone not familiar with its twists and turns. Before he had left he had thanked Amnerion profusely, until the guard captain had blushed in embarrassment and muttered that it was nothing.

Almost bursting with impatience, he settled himself on a low bench, leaned his arms on the dilapidated stone wall, and fixed his eyes on the stars. Softly he named the constellations that had risen; Libra the Scales, Orion the Hunter, Ursa Major trailed by Ursa Minor, and last the Pleiades the Seven Sisters followed by Andromeda. He permitted himself a mental pat on the back for remembering the constellations at all; his old tutor Aristos would have been proud, for he had been a restless student not inclined to sitting still. _Truth be told, I drove the poor man crazy. I don't know how he put up with me. Gods help me if I've a son like I was, I think one of us will end up dead._

He was so focused on his stargazing that he never even noticed the soft footsteps that approached from the side door of the temple. Only a subtle inner alarm made him swing around just in time to catch the slender green garbed figure in his arms. "Ariadne! Goddess, but you startled me. Give a man some warning next time."

"Perhaps I'll take to wearing bells on my ankles, that way you'll always hear me coming." She tilted her head back until she looked directly into his aquamarine eyes. "It is almost time, Theseus. Now that my father is dead, there will be nothing to stop him."

"Except you and I," he reminded gently.

"Yes." She nodded, one hand slipping around his waist. "My position as Queen protects me for a time, but soon he will seek me out. When he does . . ."

"I will be ready for him." Theseus reassured. "Your brother has gone unchecked for too long. He believes he is invincible. I will teach him the folly of that belief."

"But not without the Mother's blessing," Ariadne whispered, feeling a sudden chill go through her at his words.

"What is it, little falcon?" he inquired gently, mistaking her shudder for fear.

"You must not face Minotauros without the Mother's blessing." Ariadne repeated, urgency making her voice sharp. "If you do, you will fail. This I have Seen."

Theseus was silent, remembering another prophecy, spoken to him by Poseidon just before he was chosen for the bull dance. _Wield not the axe until it has known the Mother's touch. _ The god had also warned that he would not defeat Minotauros unless Ariadne helped him. There had been more to the god's prophecy, but the words eluded him at the moment. "Then give me Her blessing, little goddess, that I may face him without fear."

But Ariadne shook her head. "Not yet. The time is not right. When next the moon is full, then he will reveal himself as the monster he truly is. The beast within will emerge, and all will be revealed." Her emerald eyes were wide and unfocused as she gazed upon that otherworld only those with the Gift were permitted to see. "His passion will beget death, his pride knows no bounds. The wrath of the gods shall fall upon Knossos unless you strike true, Theseus prince of Athens! The earth trembles with the fury of the Mother as she seeks to punish her rebellious child. Buildings fall, and all is dust. People scream and run but there is no escape. The sea boils and Poseidon stirs; he too is outraged by the Bull-Man's behavior. A great wave rises, at its crest is the god himself with his mighty trident . . . come to break Crete in two for harboring such a heinous creature for so long." Tremors shook her and silent tears poured from her eyes. "Stay your hand, Sea Lord, I beg you! Don't destroy your people for the trespass of one insane man. Mother, you must make him see reason! Crete belongs to you also. Forbear Lady, do not hurt your children! Please . . ."

With a soft cry she jerked upright, coming back to herself. Theseus cradled her in his arms as she sagged into a boneless heap. Eyes wide with despair, she whispered, "The gods fight over who is to destroy Crete. They do not hear my pleas for mercy." Shaken, she covered her face with her hands. "I don't want to See any more. Not if all of my people will be destroyed along with Minotauros,_ because_ of Minotauros! How can they be so unfair, to condemn an entire people for the arrogance of one! Are our lives so meaningless?" Stricken by her Goddess's perceived betrayal, she turned her face into his chest and wept.

For a long time the Athenian held her, murmuring soothingly to her, one hand stroking her hair, much as he had comforted Thea when she had woken aboard the ship from a nightmare. Only the curves of Ariadne's body were not those of a child, as he was pointedly reminded when she pressed against him. "It does not have to be, Ariadne." He told her firmly. "What you See does not always happen, my mother was a priestess too, and she told me that the gods send visions to warn as well as prophecy. It will be so this time. We will make it so. I am meant to be a savior to Knossos, not a destroyer. You Saw that yourself."

Mastering her emotions, Ariadne stared up at him, amazed that he could still believe in her, even after what he had heard. "So I did, but that was before. Which is true? How can I know? I feel as though I hover on the edge of a cliff, and one misstep will doom me and my people." Her fingers tightened on him, squeezing his ribs uncomfortably, but he made no sound of protest. "I will not be like my mother. It was her mistake that brought Minotauros into the world and so doomed Knossos. Then she died and left me to deal with him. I will not fail my people as she did. By all the gods, _I swear it_!" her voice died to a passionate whisper.

"And I will help you," Theseus promised, suddenly understanding her reluctance to get close to him. It had nothing to do with her vows to the Goddess nor was it her rank that prevented her from giving him her heart. It had everything to do with her mother and Pasiphae's ill-fated liaison with a Scythian bull leaper. In her mind a liaison with a bull leaper was doomed to failure and disaster. She loved her people too much to abandon responsibility for pleasure. The thought made him smile even as he sighed, knowing he must wait to convince her otherwise.

But that was all right. He could learn patience. First he would deal with Minotauros. Then, and only then, would the debt his House owed Crete be paid. After that. . . well he would see to it that a certain Priestess-Queen lost her fear of bull leapers as potential mates.

_You aren't alone, Ariadne. I am here, will always be here,_ he sent to her, knowing she would hear him.

Green eyes met blue and filled with shared understanding.

_I know. I have always known that, since the first day I saw you in the water as a child of seven. You are the Stallion to his Bull, and I am the Falcon who decides your fate. But my heart has decided for me, long, long ago. _

_ Our destinies are bound by Fate, _he agreed silently, cupping her chin in his hand.

_And love, Theseus. Love most of all. _ Then at last she gave into the silent urging of her heart and kissed him, sealing her promise the way lovers have done since the moon first appeared in the sky.

Caught up in her sudden passion, Theseus responded fiercely, kissing her back so eagerly he feared he had hurt her. But she laughed, reassuring him otherwise. She was no fragile Athenian flower, but a daughter of the Earth Goddess, born of the fierce passion of the earth.

So caught up were they in their newfound love that neither sensed the pair of brown eyes that watched from a secluded alcove, burning with jealous rage.

All too soon, Ariadne recalled that the temple garden was hardly secluded enough for a tryst, moreover, she would not lower herself to rolling about on the ground like a serving wench. "I must go." she said with some regret, freeing herself from his embrace. "Until it is time, we must keep our love a secret. If Minotauros ever discovered it . . ."

"As you say, Lady." Theseus agreed solemnly, then kissed her hand lingeringly. "Until next time, my Lady."

She smiled at him then, a smile that made him long to hold her and never let go. Then she started back into the temple. "Fear not, beloved. You'll see me in your dreams," she called teasingly over her shoulder.

"I hope so," he muttered fervently. "Else I'll never get any sleep tonight."

Regretfully he rose and left the temple courtyard the same way he had come, springing down the steps like a mountain goat, surefooted even in the moonlight. Hidden eyes watched him go, full of unnamed longing.

* * * * * *

Phaedra swept the steps of the courtyard, brooding as the broom gathered up small piles of dust for the wind to blow away. These were the same steps of the same courtyard that Theseus had met Ariadne upon three days ago. The very thought made her blood boil. It wasn't fair. Ariadne got everything. The crown, the freedom, the power, while she was shoved into the shadows. Phaedra the second-born, the unnoticed palace princess. At least that had been true before Ariadne had brought her to the temple. Now she was noticed whether she wanted to be or not, especially when some degrading chore needed to be done, like sweeping the courtyard.

It had always irked her that the priestesses employed no servants to tend to the sweeping and cleaning and tidying for them. She had suggested once to her sister that the temple ought to consider hiring a cleaning staff, but Ariadne had simply looked at her and laughed, saying that the novices could do the same tasks just as well and besides, it gave them a sense of responsibility. For a priestess's first duty was to serve the Mother and the people, not be served by them like a pampered noblewoman.

_Except she forgets I'm not a damned novice! _ Phaedra though rebelliously, longing to fling the ash broom into the bushes. _I am a noblewoman and a daughter of the Royal House. And there is absolutely **nothing** rewarding about scrubbing floors and sweeping steps until my fingers are worn bloody, I don't care what she says._

She swept even faster, making the dirt fly. It was the worst sort of indignity, that she be made to serve in the temple like a slave while Ariadne got to attend banquets and parties and dispense justice as Queen. When was it _her_ turn? She should be attending the latest ball, not be stuck attending prayer services. She should be dressed in the finest silks and the most delicate kidskin slippers, not be wearing this dull green robe and ordinary green leather shoes. She was wasting away her youth here and by the time Ariadne let her go she'd be an old maid like her sister, unfit to turn the eyes of a goat much less an attractive man.

_Except Ariadne's not an old maid anymore, is she? _ A traitorous little voice whispered spitefully in her head. _She's made Theseus fall in love with her, and more than that really. Poor fool's so besotted he can hardly see straight._

Furious, Phaedra stamped her foot. Ariadne, always Ariadne! She had known Phaedra liked him, but she'd selfishly decided that she'd get to him first, just for spite. _Ha! I'll bet he only kissed her because she was the first woman he'd seen in a long time. She couldn't attract a tomcat in that hideous green robe and her hair is wilder than a horse's mane. Now if Theseus had only seen _**me**_ first . . .things would be different, oh yes, they would. He'd see how beautiful I am in a flash and he'd dump Ariadne like a sack of meal. _ She thought cruelly, intentionally forgetting that Theseus had met her once before, at Ariadne's urging, and had treated her as he would have treated Thea, like a little sister.

She twirled the broom around like a dancing partner, humming a reel under her breath, her brown eyes lowered coquettishly. _Now if only I could get him to notice me. But how? He never comes here unless _**she**_ summons him and I'm not permitted off temple grounds without special permission from Aglaia, the old prune, and she'll never give me leave without Ariadne's say so._

Snarling a word learned from the palace guards, Phaedra threw the broom down in a fit of thwarted desire. There was no way she could win. Then a thought occurred to her, an inspiration from Aphrodite herself. _He'll not come unless Ariadne sends for him . . .but what if he thinks she has? I can fake her handwriting, Goddess knows I've done it before with Meliantha. He'll come here tonight and I'll be waiting . . ._

She let out a girlish shriek of delight, then glanced around abruptly, fearful someone had seen. Swiftly she bent and picked up the broom and resumed her sweeping, hiding a smile of triumph. It was settled then. She would wear the dress she had worn to Minos' funeral; it being the only thing she had close at hand; it would be presentable at least. Now, if only she could figure out a way to finagle some cosmetics from Ariadne's dresser, she would be set. Her time had come at long last. There was no way she could lose now. The handsome Athenian was as good as hers.

* * * * * *

Theseus mounted the steps to the courtyard, wondering why Ariadne had chosen to meet him here so soon. The full moon's rising was still four days away. Still, perhaps she had had another Vision and wished to tell him of it. Too restless to sit, he stood leaning on the crumbled stone wall, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the stars that glittered like diamonds in the velvet setting of night. Even in starlight his hair seemed to catch fire, to draw all light to it.

Phaedra smiled. He was everything a king should be. And soon he would be hers. Barefoot, silent, she picked her way across the cobbles and came to stand next to him. She wore her gown off the shoulder, as she had seen older Cretan women do, and her hair was piled atop her head in a coronet. Makeup artfully accented her eyes and full lips. A faint wind had sprung up off the ocean and she shivered in her thin gown.

"What are you looking at my lord?" she asked in what she thought was a sultry tone.

Theseus glanced down, wondering who had caught a cold. He was surprised to find Ariadne's little sister up at this late hour. "The stars," he answered, then raised one eyebrow in faint disapproval. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Phaedra ignored the question, feeling irritated that he would ask something so unromantic as if she were nothing but a troublesome child who had sneaked away from her nurse for a forbidden walk in the night.

"And what do you see in the stars, Theseus?" she asked teasingly, taking care to lower her eyelids and smile invitingly.

"My destiny."

"The destiny of a king." Phaedra whispered, sidling closer to him, wondering why he didn't at least put an arm around her. Couldn't he see she was cold? "You will be a great ruler. All the people will worship you. You and your queen will rule all the world, even Crete." _And I will be that queen._

"I have no queen, little one," he answered absently, wondering when Ariadne would appear.

"Not yet. But you will." Phaedra reached out, took his hand in hers. Her heart was fluttering like a trapped bird and Theseus seemed to waver and flicker in the starlight.

At her touch the Athenian prince looked into her thickly lashed eyes and saw for the first time the naked adoration that burned like a white-hot flame in them. He cursed softly to himself. He should have seen this before; she was nothing more than a girl on the verge of womanhood, discovering for the first time what it was to desire a man. He wished she had picked someone else to fix her eyes on. Gods knew he had enough problems without adding this to the list.

As gently and quickly as possible he had to end this meeting. He had no wish for Ariadne to come upon them like this. It was not going to be pleasant; but he would be as gentle as he could given the circumstances. He turned about, intending to leave. "Phaedra," he began, gently disentangling his hand from her clutching fingers. "The hour grows late. You should be sleeping. The night air grows chill, you'll catch your death if you stand on these cobbles any longer. Off with you now. I'll discuss this with you tomorrow," he ordered, giving her a fatherly pat on the head.

Phaedra's lower lip stuck out. This was not going as she had planned. Couldn't he see that she wanted him, had come here with the express purpose of giving herself to him? Were all Athenians so dense? How dare he misunderstand her!

It was time for some desperate measures. Moistening her lips, she stepped closer to him, flung her arms about his waist and said huskily, "If the night air is chill, then you will warm me, won't you, Theseus? Make me your queen, prince of Athens. I am half-dead with wanting you—I lo—"

"Don't say it," Theseus warned, his tone deadly serious. This had gone on long enough. Firmly, he removed her hands, stepped away from her. "What you feel isn't love, girl, not as you think it. It is but infatuation. Someday, Phaedra, you will find someone else, one you will truly love, and you will forget me—"

"No! You are wrong. Don't you think I know my own mind? I love _you_—and only you!" Her slender breasts heaved with the force of her passion, her eyes flashed and her lower lip trembled.

_By Apollo and Zeus Thunderer, she is good! _ he thought. _She could make a fortune as a minstrel._ "Even if it was love everlasting, and we both know it is not, I don't bed children." He told her sternly, abandoning gentleness. It did not work on her. "Go to bed, Phaedra, and I shall forget this conversation ever occurred."

Color flamed in her cheeks. _How dare he refuse me, a daughter of the royal House! _ "I am a woman, my lord, and have been for two years past. You have only to look at me—"

"Stop, Phaedra. You are a Princess of Knossos, not some two-bit streetwalker. Your sister would be mortified if she knew how you behaved this night," he scolded.

"Ariadne, always Ariadne!" Phaedra stormed, her self-control abandoned. "She acts so self-righteous and noble, but I've seen the way she looks at you. She wants you for herself, that's why she won't let me see you. Did she tell you she would give up her position as High Priestess if you would marry her?" The girl's voice was sharp with malice, sizzling with jealousy.

Up until that moment Theseus had been in control of his temper, but Phaedra's insinuation of her sister, that she used him for her own ends, was too much to endure. His hands clamped down on the girl's shoulders and he shook her sharply. "That's none of your concern. I suggest you return to your room, _child_, before I give you the treatment your behavior deserves. And it won't be a kiss, that much I'll tell you!"

Phaedra stared up into his eyes, seeing the anger that burned in them. Furious as she was, she dared not push him further, lest he carry out his threat. Jerking away from him, she ran across the courtyard until she reached the doors leading to the temple precinct. Then she spun to face him. "Someday Theseus, prince of Athens, I shall come to you again. And next time you shall not refuse me, that I promise!"

Then she was gone.

Her words clashed in the air like two warriors on the field of battle, piercing the Athenian prince as sharply as a spear. The spear of prophecy.

**Who wants to bet that Phaedra will be trouble later on?**

**And how do you like how the relationship between Theseus and Ariadne is progressing?**


	13. Chapter 12

THE DAY OF THE full moon dawned hot and heavy, the sun beat down upon the arena like a hammer on a forge, turning the white sand into a dazzling crystalline landscape almost too bright to behold. The air was thick and sluggish with no breeze, but it was a metallic gray as if it were going to like a hammer on a forge, turning the white sand into a dazzling crystalline landscape almost too bright to behold. The air was thick and sluggish with no breeze, but it was a metallic gray as if it were going to storm any minute. Even the bulls sensed something amiss; they were unusually restless, bellowing loudly and stamping their hooves impatiently at the barred wooden door that led into the arena. The bulls' agitation was even more audible due to the strange silence of the morning, for no bird sang or twittered in the rafters of the Bull Court and the branches of the olive trees were empty of feathered occupants. But if any of the dancers found that odd, none dared to comment on it for fear of ill omens.

But the gray air influenced even the usually merry spirits of the bull dancers, making them uneasy and snappish and inclined to brood. Theseus felt his nerves prickle in a subtle warning and thought, _The Sea Lord stirs in his briny bed._ Indeed, the roar of the surf rang unusually clear that morning, pounding and receding with a sudden snarl, then fading away to a sibilant hiss. Even above the bulls he could hear the sea speaking, but unlike other times, its voice did not soothe. Instead it roused an unnamable restlessness. The tall Athenian felt as if his skin were too tight for his body; he was filled with a wild urge to run to the edge of the sea and leap in and swim far away from this rock, the source of so much death and sacrifice. Impatience swirled through him; he wanted to dance, to fly like the osprey his team was named for, he could not bear to sit still and so he paced.

His team caught his impatience and grew snappish as Krispos made them wait and wait again for their time. An hour passed, then two, and the air grew close and the sun grew even hotter.

"Old Snowy's restless today," Kerkyon observed nervously; the slight dark boy was not fond of the white bull, though he was among the best at somersaulting off his horns and doing handstands on the broad back.

"Better watch him then," Pyrrha cautioned, her normally exuberant manner subdued. "He's likely to gore to the right." She performed well, quick and lithe, and with a courage that shamed many older dancers. But Theseus did not often let her perform the bull leap, for Pyrrha was sometimes reckless and didn't take time to position herself properly.

Among them, only Pyrrha and himself could do the triple, though Thea with her small frame could manage a double if set up properly. Today he would perform the triple with Amnerion there to catch him. He trusted Amphytrion and Diocles, both were sturdy catchers, though too slow to ever be a bull leaper, but the triple required exquisite timing, a shade too slow and the leaper would risk certain injury. Only Amnerion knew him well enough to catch him at the end of the maneuver.

Only Thea seemed unaffected by the grim atmosphere that settled over the Bull Court. She spun lightly on her toes, turning handsprings and cartwheels like a monkey in a circus. Theseus watched her with an amused smile and thought how changed she was from the frightened, weeping child she had been when she set sail from Athens. Now she was bronzed by the sun, her hair curling about her in a neat gold cap, she capered with the grace of a cat and the boldness of a leopard on the hunt. The months in the Bull Court had toughened her and she was no longer reliant on others for protection; now when a newcomer challenged her, she fought back and often came out on top, whereas before she used to run and hide behind either him or Amnerion. Truly her father and mother would not recognize this fierce girl as being the same daughter they had given up for dead.

All of them had changed, becoming more confident and physically quicker and stronger, for the Bull Court harbored no cowards or weaklings; those who could not dance died a swift death on the sands. The fire of Poseidon's forge had tempered them until their spirits were as unbreakable as steel. For six months they had ate, slept and dreamed the art of the dance, until it was in their blood, never to be forgotten. Their former lives were but a memory, all that mattered was the Bull Court and the dance that was both prayer and celebration. They had gone from being slaves to being peerless athletes, proud of their skill, which had been won at great cost in blood, sweat, and tears. They were the Ospreys, the finest team ever to dance the bulls in thirty years, they were the Chosen of Poseidon, and their skill was a hymn of everlasting praise to Poseidon, who held their lives in his fist.

Theseus alone of his countrymen knew that the bargain was soon to end, that the day was fast approaching when Poseidon would summon his Chosen to his side, and with him his people. Thus had Ariadne Seen, and Theseus knew better than to doubt her Gift. But for now there was the dance, and the Athenian prince knew with utter certainty that this dance would be one that would never be forgotten.

"Ospreys!" Krispos barked from the wall. "You're up next."

Theseus rose and began to stretch, limbering up. Perspiration beaded his forehead and dripped into his eyes but he ignored it, continuing to warm up his muscles with a series of stretches designed to increase flexibility and strength. There would be no room for error today, not with Old Snowy so restless and unpredictable. Quickly he called out the assignations, making certain each member knew his or her place. "Pyrrha and Thea, you go and do the first pass, get Snowy warmed up for me. Amnerion, you're catcher for my triple. Kerkyon and Diocles, you're seconds. Hylo, you'll go in last, do a double, the crowd always likes it." The slender, sensible maiden nodded, she had been expecting him to choose her, she was an expert on aerial exhibitions with the finest form in the air of any of them, a natural acrobat. Her double somersault was legend among the Bull Court, and the crowd worshipped her for it.

He had chosen only his six most experienced dancers for he would not risk the other seven when Snowy was agitated and likely to gore or charge at a mistimed leap. "Ready then?" he called. The others nodded, faces eager. "Lord Poseidon Earthshaker, our lives are Yours. May You honor us with Your acceptance this day, for we dance for You alone, Sea Lord. All glory and honor to Your Name!"

At the end of the prayer the great brass gong sounded, summoning them to the arena. The Ospreys ran out onto the sands, hardly noticing the burning grains beneath their feet, so caught up were they in the cheers of the crowd. "The Ospreys! The Ospreys!" the crowd screamed, clapping wildly. Then, " Theseus! Theseus! Give us the triple, golden one! The triple!"

He bowed lazily to the crowd, then turned back, all his concentration fixed on the white bull who snorted and waited at the far end of the arena. His team quickly assumed their places, with Pyrrha and Thea in the center, he and Amnerion off to the sides and Kerkyon, Hylo, and Diocles behind the huge creature, urging it into a shuffling trot.

As the bull charged, Thea sprang, her hands catching the horns and swinging up. An instant later, Pyrrha performed the same maneuver on the other horn, until both dancers were standing on a horn. Snorting, Snowy shook his head, but the two were unfazed. The bull dipped his broad head and then tossed it back. As he did so, Thea released her hold, stood upright on the broad back, then bent her knees and flipped into the air. Simultaneously, Pyrrha joined her, and they crossed in mid-air, landing on opposite sides of the bull, caught securely by Kerkyon and Diocles.

Snowy bawled in agitation, shook his massive head and trotted to the far end of the arena. The crowd cheered wildly for seldom did they see such a display of daring and skill by one bull dancer, much less two. The cheering grew louder, for they knew that the best was yet to come.

"_Theseus! The triple! The triple_!"

Theseus took the center now, waiting, muscles poised while Amnerion and Thea gamboled about the bull, swinging off the gilded horns, rolling over the massive shoulders, urging the placid animal into a swift trot, for only at a quick pace would he be able to ensure the speed necessary for a decent triple. Snowy lowered his head, curved horns glittering, and charged straight at him.

Theseus crouched, hands outstretched, ready to swing up onto the animal's horns. Aided by the bull's instinctive toss, he would gain enough momentum to launch into a somersault just over the animal's head and continue to do two more across the bull's back before Amnerion caught his hands and brought him back to the earth. It was a maneuver he had performed countless times before with consummate skill.

But just as he grasped the horns, a shudder went through him, and the sea pounded in his head, roaring a warning. His balance was thrown off, his hand missed the hold, and he came down awkwardly across the bull's snout. Cursing, for he was now in a vulnerable position, he tried to swing to the side and dismount, but Snowy was furious at his clumsiness and tossed his head, slamming him into the ridge of bone just below the broad horns.

Blood filled his mouth and his head felt as if he'd run headfirst into a brick wall. Dizziness took him and he felt his grip slide off as oblivion beckoned to him. Desperately, he sought to make his muscles obey, but they were not responding quickly enough. He slipped further down the bull's nose, his feet touching the sand. In another moment he would tumble to the earth and the razor-sharp hooves would trample him like so much sawdust.

Then Thea was there, swinging up on the right side horn, jerking the bull's head around, so that he slipped off sideways down the great shoulder and avoided the deadly hooves. Amnerion caught him before he could fall, his dark eyes bright with alarm.

"Theseus! Are you all right? What happened?"

Black stars burst in his head, but he shook off Amnerion's arm, furious at himself for letting his concentration lapse. A cold feeling welled deep in his bones and his skin prickled in unmistakable warning. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he felt nausea stir within his belly. _What in gods name is happening to me? I feel sick and cold, every nerve throbbing, my skin is on fire as if with a fever._

The screams of the crowd echoed like a bass drum in his head, unnaturally loud in the sudden stillness. Then he realized what was happening. _My earthquake sense! This is how I feet just before Poseidon releases his hold on the earth. And the worse the danger, the sicker I feel._ It was the Sea Lord's Gift to his Chosen, so that he might save himself and any he deemed worthy from the Sea Lord's destructive fury. Twice before he had experienced this aura, and always before an earthquake had followed within several hours of his sensing it. The stronger his aura, the stronger the quake.

His stomach twisted, quivering, he managed to bring himself under control. This was bad, very bad . . .

Snowy bellowed, and in his cry was a note no one had ever heard before. The bull sensed the impending doom as surely as Theseus, and in his panic he turned upon the Ospreys in a fury, seeking not only to dislodge the puny weight on his horns, but to kill.

The great head curved inward, his left horn slashing down in a murderous attempt to rid himself of the human who clung to his horn.

Thea, her body bent in the midst of a leap, was caught unaware. The sudden shift in momentum threw her backwards just as the curving horn sliced down and speared her through the side.

Her scream rent the air, piercing him like a red-hot knife through the ribs. He tore free from Amnerion's restraining grasp and ran forward, his mouth open in a cry of denial. _No, Poseidon! I was to be the sacrifice! That was the bargain. Not her. Please, not her._

Even as he ran forward, the massive animal shook his head. Blood spattered over the white hide in scarlet splotches as the bull at last rid himself of the clinging weight. Thea slid off the horns to lie in a crumpled heap on the glistening sand, blood streaking a crimson swath about her. Theseus knelt by her side, heedless of the snorting animal not five feet from him, whose hooves could grind him into dust with one well-timed kick.

By then the Ospreys had rallied, moving forward to distract the frightened animal. The bull handlers had moved into the arena armed with long sticks which they used to gently prod the lumbering beast to the other end of the arena. The crowd had gone silent, shocked by what had just occurred.

Theseus cradled a white-faced Thea in his arms. The wound in her side was deep; he tore a strip off of his kilt and pressed it to the wound in a futile effort to stem the blood flow. But it was no use. His hands were soon stained crimson. She trembled, her deep brown eyes full of agony and fear. "Theseus . . . this hurts . . .make it stop . . . please . . ."

"Shhh, little one. You'll be all right. Lie still," he soothed, trying to remain calm. He seen wounds like this before, in battle. And he feared that the temple healers would be able to do nothing for her. _I won't let her die. Not this time. Poseidon, you will have to find a different sacrifice._

From far away he heard the roar of the sea as the Sea Lord made answer to his impertinent demand. _Deliver unto me another sacrifice then, prince of Athens, as is my right!_

Theseus bowed his head, vowing he would deliver a fitting sacrifice before the night was over. Then he gazed up into the stands at the watching people, desperately searching for a familiar face. _Ariadne! Help me! I need you! _ he cried out silently, urging her to come to him with all of his heart, hoping against hope that she would hear him.

The Ospreys crowded about him, offering advice, but he ignored them. "Get back!" he ordered hoarsely. "She needs room to breathe."

Thea's voice came to him, soft as a thought. "Theseus . . . I'm afraid . . .it's so cold . . .why am I so cold?"

He pressed tighter against the bandage. Her flesh was indeed becoming cool. Frantic now, he lifted his head, gathering himself once more. "_Ariadne!"_

_ I am here, beloved_.

And she was. The Ospreys parted before her, and she knelt in the sand, heedless of the blood and dirt on her fine robes. One hand reached out, touched Thea's forehead. "You'll be all right, child. By the Mother's touch, I heal you," she intoned softly, shutting her eyes.

Then a golden light welled up from her fingers and washed over the stricken child. Theseus stared as the cloth he'd been holding fell away, soaked in blood, yet the flesh beneath was mending even as he watched. In the space of a heartbeat the horrible wound had sealed itself shut. Color returned to the girl's face and she opened her eyes wide and gasped, "The pain . . .it's gone!"

Ariadne opened her eyes, the golden aura fading as quickly as it had come. "The skin will be tender for a few days, it might even scar, so be careful. Otherwise, you'll be fine and dancing the bulls again within the week."

Thea smiled. "Thank you, Lady."

"Don't thank me. Thank the Mother. It was she who healed you." Ariadne told her, exchanging fond smiles with Theseus.

The Athenian started to get to his feet, only to swear softly in pain. He had landed awkwardly after the bull had tossed him, twisting his ankle, though he had not felt the pain until now. "Give me her," Amnerion said, holding out his arms for the girl. His keen eyes had caught everything. "You can't carry her with a bad ankle."

Theseus placed her within them. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

He started to get to his feet again. Pain shot jagged spikes through his leg, but he ignored it. No one must know how badly injured he was, or they would think Poseidon had deserted his Chosen. Suddenly, a slender hand closed about his wrist. "Sit down, you fool, before you hurt that ankle even more!" Ariadne hissed furiously.

"Ariadne, I'm fine. I just need—"

"A good punch on the jaw might knock some sense into your stubborn Athenian skull!" she retorted, pushing him back down. "I'm the healer, you're the patient, and when I say sit down, just do it!"

To Amnerion's surprise, Theseus obeyed, which meant that he was hurt more than he would admit or that he was humoring Ariadne. The High Priestess bent over him, and the golden light flowed from her once more. When it was gone the Athenian prince was whole. He rose easily, and held out a hand to help Ariadne up from the blood-soaked sand.

She accepted his hand and rose to stand beside him. Only then was she aware of the murmurs of shock and disbelief that rose from the people who had come down into the arena to see what their Queen was doing, for it was well nigh unheard of for a Queen, even a High Priestess, to personally aid a commoner, especially a bull leaper. And to do so twice . . .! Rumors flashed among the crowd like lightning in a thunderstorm. Like mother, like daughter, some whispered.

Ariadne flashed a look of alarm at Theseus, realizing too late what her actions had cost them. _I saved a child's life, but in doing so_ _I have betrayed us all . . .now Minotauros will have the weapon he needs to use against me . . _. Fear curled like lead within her stomach, but she straightened and hid it behind a cool facade of royal dignity.

"Good people, return now to your homes!" she ordered, lifting her arms above the crowd in a gesture of command. "The bull dance is over for today. Let us not anger the god further, but go back to your homes without delay."

The people obeyed, slipping back from them with haste, fearful that the unpredictable Poseidon would strike them next if they did not move quickly enough. Within minutes, the arena was empty, but voices still drifted on the wind, as rumors spread like wildfire through the city of the Priestess-Queen and her relationship with the Athenian bull leaper.

* * * * * *

Rumors drifted upon black wings to the ears of Minotauros, still sulking in his apartments, and the words hit like a spark in dry grass, igniting a ferocious desire to revenge himself upon both the sister who had usurped his power and the Athenian prince who had humiliated him in front of his court. He had waited forever for this moment; the day when the two would betray themselves. And at last they had. Now was the moment he'd been waiting for.

By her actions, Ariadne had revealed herself to be corrupt, taking an Athenian slave for a lover rendered her impure by his new order, and her actions reflected upon the priesthood of the Goddess. Here was the excuse he'd been looking for to rid Knossos of the priestesses and their whore of a deity. After tonight, the Temple of the Mother would not exist; he and his men would raze it to the ground and put every woman who resisted to the sword . . .after they had taken their pleasure of the whores first. It would be the beginning of a new era—the Era of Minotauros—and only one god would reign supreme.

Himself.

The deformed prince chuckled darkly and sipped at his wine, his thoughts full of lust, hate, pride, and blood.

The skies darkened and thunder rumbled as the heavens echoed the displeasure of the immortals, but Minotauros paid no heed, drowning himself in his dreams of conquest.

* * * * * *

The attack caught the priestesses unaware, for they had never in their wildest dreams imagined anyone would dare invade the sacred grounds and commit such heinous acts against the Goddess and themselves. But they had underestimated Minotauros's madness; and now they paid the price of complacency.

The temple guards ordered the company of red kilted soldiers to halt, but Minotauros swept forward, sword in hand, and struck them down, laughing as he did so. The pristine stones ran dark with blood; for an instant the soldiers hesitated, fear welling in their hearts at this sacrilege. But moments passed and when the Mother's wrath did not descend upon their prince, their fear died, replaced with fervent confidence in the man they had pledged their lives to guard.

"See? The Bitch-Goddess does not protect her own!" Minotauros crowed. "For too long have we lived under the rule of these whores, bowing to their every whim. But I say no more! We are not cowards to hide behind the skirts of women. We are warriors and our cause is just—freedom for all men. Now it is our turn to rule. Come, brothers! Let us teach these spiteful hags their proper place . . .on the ground at our feet, begging for mercy!"

Hatred swelled from the bull-like man in a fetid miasma, infecting the soldiers with its putrefaction to the last man. With a roar of animal-like hatred, eyes burning with lust, they charged through the open doors of the temple, swords raised. "Minotauros rules!"

Then the slaughter began.

* * * * * *

Ariadne woke from a sound sleep, fear strangling her, cutting off her breath. Blackness surrounded her, endless and deep, and for one moment she could not think, was paralyzed by a terror so awful she could barely comprehend it. Then, hard on the heels of the terror came pain, blinding white-hot agony that shrieked like a thousand Furies through her head, resonating to every part of her being. Voiceless, she shrieked.

"Ariadne!" Theseus cried, shaking her sharply. "What is it? Wake up! It's a nightmare."

But her green eyes were wide with unfathomable terror, unseeing she stared at him.

"Ariadne!" He shook her until her teeth rattled. "Wake up!"

Another soundless shriek. Her pain tore through him worse than any he had ever known. He shuddered with the force of it. He could not bear to feel her suffer like this. Heedless of the agony that turned his bones to water, he drew back his arm and struck her across the cheek.

He felt the slap sting as if he had struck himself, but the shock snapped her out of the trance, bringing her back to herself with a snap. Blinking back tears, her head throbbing with residual agony, she cried, "They're dead . . . oh, gods . . .so much blood . . . all dead! Mother, why have you abandoned your children?"

"Ariadne, what happened?" he demanded, feeling the sick dread he had experienced in the arena return tenfold. Gently, he stroked her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, but you were . . .lost."

Regret flickered in her emerald eyes. "Minotauros. . . has attacked the temple. He's killing the priestesses . . .him and his band of House Guards . . .This is my fault. He has at last found the excuse he needs to slaughter my people."

"Ariadne, no! You can't blame yourself. This has been coming for months. You know that."

She smiled sadly. "Ah, the fabled Athenian logic. But logic has no place in the heart. Minotauros knows this, he strikes where I am most vulnerable." Horror flashed over her features. "Mother help me! Phaedra is in there!"

She sprang to her feet, all the blood draining from her face. "I must save her. My poor little sister." Fury surged into her face, transforming her gentle features into those of a berserker warrior. "_This time you shall not win, my brother! This one you shall not have!_"

Her words echoed in the small room like a trumpet of war, and in a heartbeat she seemed to grow taller, her whole being blazing with green fire, as the essence of the Goddess Dia entered her. Theseus took two steps backward, awe shivering through him. He knelt, bowing his head. "Your will be done, Mother."

Her gaze pierced him like a spear, falcon sharp, seeing into his soul with searing clarity. But he did not flinch. She nodded once in approval. "Up now, Stallion of Poseidon. Your debt has come due! The Bull-Man has committed a heinous sin against all immortals. It is your task to avenge us!"

He rose to his feet, feeling a sudden strength surge through him, wild as the ocean itself, coursing through his veins like liquid fire. He felt the fury of the hurricane roar in his ears as the tremendous power of the Sea Lord filled him. _You are my Chosen. The Bull-Man has committed heresy. For that he must pay. I will not be mocked!_

Wind blew up from nowhere as the elements themselves responded to the immortals' anger. The skies opened up and rain thundered down in a torrent. And from deep within the earth came a sound like rock breaking, shifting, as Poseidon smote his trident against the earth.

"Come! Minotauros will try to enter the Labyrinth. We must stop him there." the Mother-in-Ariadne ordered. Then she sprang away.

Theseus did not hesitate. He followed the swiftly moving figure out of the Palace and through the corridors of the Maze to the Bull Court. All about them, doors were opening and dancers were crying out in shock and fear as the wrath of the Sea Lord fell upon Knossos like a sledgehammer, sparing no one.

"Theseus! What's happening!" Amnerion called, eyes bright with fear. "Is it Poseidon? Where are you going?"

The Athenian barely spared him a glance. "Amnerion, get the Ospreys to safety! Go down to the harbor. Board _the Gull._ Stop for nothing! Poseidon's wrath has claimed Knossos!"

Before the astonished Amnerion could respond, Theseus was gone, racing after Ariadne. The guard captain swore softly, but knew better than to question his prince when he spoke in_ that _tone. He turned away to gather his people, praying that there was still time for them to find safe haven.

* * * * * *

The soldiers laughed, their swords wet with blood, as they stalked through the halls of the temple like a herd of rampaging bulls, breaking and smashing sacred bowls and statues, shredding priceless tapestries and burning sacred texts with wild abandon. Priestesses and novices fled shrieking from them to no avail. They were run down and killed or else dragged down on the floor to satisfy the battle-mad lust of the soldiers.

Only Elaisia kept her head, gathering together a handful novices including Phaedra, and barricading them in the storage cellar; the only room in the temple with a stout door of iron-barred oak. It would take the men several hours at least to batter down the door, if it ever occurred to them to try. In the meantime, Elaisia organized the frightened, weeping novices into teams and armed each with spare harvesting implements. Even in the most inexperienced hands, a scythe or pitchfork could do great harm to a foe, and Elaisia meant to defend her charges till her last breath. They were her children, the children the Mother had given into her care, and she'd not lose them to the likes of the beast-men. _Mother protect and avenge us!_

Behind her, Phaedra crouched, armed with scythe and dagger. Her brown eyes were wide in terror, her arms shook in shock, but her grip on her weapons were steady. _I refuse to die like a dog in the street. I am a princess of Knossos, born to rule. Mother keep me and protect me. _She stiffened, for the soldiers crude bellowing could be heard even in the depths of the storage cellar. They were shouting a paean to Minotauros. Her lip curled in distaste. _Furies blast you, brother! _Phaedra thought savagely. _You have ruined everything. May the Mother strike you dead, you accursed beast!_

Hands gripping the short haft of the scythe, Phaedra waited, heart pounding. She sneered contemptuously at the other novices who wept in fear. Spineless worms. She would not go to her death sobbing like a child; and she would take more than a few of them with her.

Above her, the soldiers' feet thudded with distressing volume.

* * * * * *

Ariadne raced down the corridors of the Labyrinth on flying feet, sure and swift as she had never been before, allowing the avatar of the Mother to overshadow her. The Goddess's rage at the sacrilege committed by the soldiers of Minotauros knew no bounds, it rolled through her like molten rock, volcanic in its intensity. It demanded an outlet. And she ran onward, following the compulsion that bid her return to the Mother's temple where hung the sacred labrys, the great double-headed axe of polished metal, used in ancient times for a blood sacrifice. It had lain unused for a thousand years and more. But no longer. Tonight the Mother demanded a sacrifice of blood as of old.

Anger screamed through her in a wild torrent, the fury of a mother who has been forced to watch her children torn apart and murdered and be unable to prevent it. Guilt surged through the cracks, for had she been more circumspect, perhaps the priestesses need not have been the target of her hideous brother's insanity. But what was done was done. Hard on the heels of that thought came the implacable logic that Minotauros had only been waiting for the right time to strike back at those he perceived as a threat; in short, anyone with more authority and influence than he. And the temple of the Earth Mother was the central power in Crete, the heart of their society. Logically, it would be the first thing to be removed, thus clearing the way to set himself up as both king and god.

_He chose his path long ago,_ a deep voice whispered, ancient and wise as the earth She guarded. _He has brought fire and doom to Knossos, My city, as was foretold. Now it is up to you to stop him, Chosen. Choose your weapons wisely._

She reached up, grasping the leather-wrapped handle of the labrys with two hands. Then she tugged with all of her strength. The great axe came free of its holder, its weight almost laying her out flat on the floor. Only the Goddess-given strength she now possessed enabled her to lift the weapon at all. Even so the strain was enormous. Muscles twisted and stretched, bunching and contorting, but at last the weapon was on the ground.

Sweat poured from her brow, stinging her eyes. Irritably she brushed it aside. Then she placed both hands upon the handle and said in a voice as deep and powerful as the earth itself, "Mother, by your hand I do consecrate this axe. May it seek out and destroy the one who has committed such wanton destruction against you and yours. In your Name, let it be so!"

Power poured from her in a glittering stream of silver. Like liquid mercury it flowed over the handle and drifted in a silver tide down the entire weapon. To the naked eye it remained unchanged, but to one Gifted with the Sight and a Chosen of an Olympian, it blazed with Power, green for Dia, Goddess of Earth and all living things.

Theseus entered the temple just as Ariadne finished consecrating the sacred weapon. His head throbbed with the wrath of Poseidon, the Sea Lord's fury raged through him like a typhoon, threatening to sweep him away. But he resisted the pull, determined to keep his identity as a human being, and not as a mere vessel for the Sea Lord's avatar. Pushing back the tempest swirling within, he stared at the labrys, blazing green with Power. Once the double-axe had been used to sever the head of a bull in a single blow on the eve of the new year.

Now it would be used again, to slay a different kind of bull, for only blood would appease the gods' holy wrath now.

_Touch not the axe until it has known the Mother's touch._

The prophecy rang in his head, and the Athenian bull leaper smiled. The labrys had been consecrated. Blessed by she who was the Voice of the Mother, Guardian of Earth. Now he would wield it as he had been meant to wield it; for vengeance and for justice and for redemption of a wrong committed years before.

His hair seemed to blaze in the torchlight, molten gold, and his eyes were wild and deep as the turbulent Aegean. He shone with an aura that transcended mortal flesh, even as she. Upon seeing him, Ariadne stepped back a pace, allowing him to take the labrys.

His hand closed over the handle.

And his fate was sealed forevermore.

**So how did you like this one?**

**Since I'm nice, I decided to post the next chapter as well, rather than making you wait. So be kind in return and leave me reviews for them! Thanks!**


	14. Chapter 13

WHILE HIS SOLDIERS TORE down a structure that had stood for centuries, Minotauros cast about, bloodlust raging through him unfulfilled. For the one he sought was not here, though all logic said she should be. She was . . .elsewhere. With _him._ And rage such as he had never known swelled in his heart at the mere thought of the Athenian. Theseus son of Aegeus, who was all that he was not. Whole of body, gifted with a face and form that women desired, favored by the gods who had spurned him. Why should it be so? Why should Theseus rule in Athens, weakling mainland kingdom that it was, with approval of the gods when he, Minotauros, was denied the same? Was he not of royal blood, born of the Queen of Knossos, recognized her son? All of his life he had sought for power and always it had been the one thing denied him. All else had been his to take, his right as the strongest and the best. And now the power would be his at last. Only Theseus and Ariadne stood in the way.

He threw back his head and laughed. Fools, slaves to foolish deities, they did not know what they faced. They fancied themselves guardians and warriors, but neither had ever killed. They were but prey and he was the ultimate predator.

They would fall as the others had fallen, their dreams but dust at his feet.

Then he would rule as God-King of Crete. And people would serve him or die.

He swung around, leaving the temple at a trot. Let the soldiers have their fun with the priestesses. He had bigger fish to catch. Guided by some dark instinct, he wound his way through a rough warren of stone, at last finding what he sought: the entrance to the Labyrinth.

Theseus spun around, the labrys gripped in both hands. His ears had caught the faint scrape of a shoe on stone. Instinctively he shifted, facing the entrance of the temple, aquamarine eyes blazing with the fire of battle. He had prepared all of his life for this. All his months of training in the Bull Court had been for this final battle. Labrys in hand, he waited.

Minotauros did not disappoint him. He charged through the door, pig-eyes alive with the need to slaughter, mouth bared like a wild beast's, black hair strewn in a wild tangle about shoulders crooked and bowed like the bull for which he was named. In his hand he gripped a huge short sword.

"Run, Athenian, while you still can!" he howled.

Theseus said nothing, only smiled mockingly.

Then Ariadne was there, her voice rising and falling like the sea. "It is as it shall be. Now you must face him, love. I cannot help you. The Bull and the Stallion must meet. With the Mother's blessing, if you remain true, you shall triumph." She drew his head down in a kiss as wild and powerful as the wind over the mountains. Power flowed through him. "Be swift, my heart. Now I must go. Others need me. But we shall meet again, if the Fates are kind."

Then she was gone in a swirl of green light.

And Minotauros charged, sword held high, figuring that the smaller man would fall back before his greater bulk. But Theseus met him squarely, taking most of the punishing blow on the handle of the labrys. His arms quivered, but his muscles were strong from the hours of practice and more, for Ariadne had given him a portion of her own strength as well, the strength of the goddess Dia. He spun the labrys in an arc, swung at Minotauros's broad shoulder.

The big man backed away, barely avoiding the massive blade. His eyes grew wide with astonishment. Clearly he had not expected his opponent to put up much of a fight. Theseus saw it and grinned knowingly, causing the deformed prince to become even more angry.

Heedless of the anger that stole much of his prowess, Minotauros slashed back, aiming for Theseus's legs, hoping to end it with one swift chop to the knee. But Theseus had not learned to dance the bulls for nothing. He anticipated the stroke before it began and easily avoided it, springing to the side, deflecting it off the metal face of the labrys.

The impact sent tremors up Minotauros's arms, but he was not aware of them. He circled in again, intent as a shark on the hunt, waiting for the Athenian to misjudge. Theseus might be quicker, but he was stronger. And strength always won over speed.

A dozen times they clashed, and a dozen times they drew back, evenly matched. Theseus's eyes narrowed, searching for weaknesses. Minotauros towered over him, and he was stronger, but like the bulls in the arena, he was neither quick nor in control of his emotions. And Theseus had learned long ago that a warrior who let anger rule him made mistakes, fatal ones. So he began to goad the temperamental man with mocking smiles and sneers, not bothering to waste precious breath on words.

Minotauros grew more furious, his swings growing wilder, less accurate. He lost all control, all concept of strategically placed blows. His only desire was to batter and pummel, raining tremendous blows down on his foe, until one broke through and finished him.

Theseus deflected each of them easily, though his arms and shoulders ached with the effort. Now he must hold on until Minotauros tired, for even he could not keep up this pace for long. One slip and it would be over.

Minotauros continued his assault, confident that the Athenian was desperately defending himself. "Give up, boy! Why waste your life? For her? She's like the rest—a bitch in heat for any man who asks."

Theseus smiled thinly, but his eyes burned turquoise fire. "Not for you, Bull-Man."

Minotauros howled, a cry that was more beast than man, and all control fled. He struck with all of his strength.

The sheer savagery of the blow caught the Athenian off-guard. He caught it on the axe handle, but he felt his left shoulder go numb under the impact. Wincing, he stepped back, knowing he must have time to regain the full use of his arm before he could wield the labrys effectively enough to deal a killing blow.

But Minotauros scented his foe's vulnerability and bore in even more ferociously. Blows fell thick and heavy, wearing down the slender bull leaper with every stroke. Minotauros's heart leaped with joy. His strength was fading too, but not as fast as that of his opponent.

Then came the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

Theseus slipped on a slick patch of blood on the floor and went down to one knee, the labrys held crosswise in front of him.

Minotauros bellowed in triumph. "Now, Athenian, you die!"

His sword came down in a vicious arc.

But the Athenian prince was no longer there.

The fall had been a feint, for Theseus had used the butt of the labrys to launch himself over Minotauros' bulk in a controlled spring. He landed behind the bull-man and had the labrys in position almost before Minotauros realized what had happened.

Minotauros spun, but his bulk moved too slowly.

"In the name of Poseidon Sea Lord, your life is forfeit, murderer!" Theseus cried.

The labrys swung in a glittering final arc, its enchanted edge biting deep.

Fire flared from it in an emerald shower, throwing the surprised Theseus backwards. From far away a voice said: _The sacrifice has been accepted._

Theseus struggled to one knee, head bowed. "The debt is paid. My people are free. Your servant, Mother."

A rich chuckle rang in his ears. _Well done, son of Aegeus. Now go. The Falcon awaits._

He rose to his feet, picked up the labrys, cleaned it and set it back on the wall. Then he turned and made for the door, leaving Minotauros's corpse shrouded in shadows.

Behind him came a dreadful roar as the Mother shook the earth, sending tons of stone crashing down to bury the evil one so deep that no one would ever find him. Such were the last rites of a traitor.

**So how did you like the end of this one?**

**Next: While Theseus fought Minotauros, Ariadne had her own battle to fight with those who sought to defile the Mother's temple. This too is posted!!**


	15. Chapter 14

ARIADNE EMERGED FROM THE Labyrinth into a world gone mad with terror. All around her people screamed and ran, seeking to escape the wrath of the gods that had descended upon their city. The earth shook with tremors, residual after shocks of the earthquake the Goddess had unleashed when her temple had been defiled. The streets of the city looked like a woman had lifted a rug to shake it out and when she dropped it, creases remained. Buildings had toppled into stone ruins like a child's building blocks knocked over during a tantrum. Dogs howled, children wailed, mothers wept and fathers cursed the pride of the Cretan prince who had brought the Goddess's wrath down on the innocents. The cacophony of sound made her want to cover her ears and run; the effect on her emotions was worse, for her empathic shields were flung wide open due to the Goddess's overshadowing. All of the fear, pain, shock, and fury her people felt were reflected on her a thousandfold. For one instant she feared she would go stark raving mad. Then her control reasserted itself, and her shields shut out the deafening press of emotions. She drew a shuddering breath of relief.

Then she gathered her robes in one hand and gripped her dagger in the other, and proceeded to the temple, which alone out of all surrounding it had been untouched by the earthquake. Which meant the soldiers were still within. And so was her little sister. _Phaedra! _ her heart cried out in fury and fear. She began to run.

She was drawn up short by a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she expected to see one of the terror stricken populace, begging for help. Instead she stared into the gold eyes and inhuman perfection of Hermes, Master of Shadows. He laid a finger across his lips, bidding her to still the shout rising on her tongue. Then, with a rogue's mischievous twinkle in his brilliant eyes, he drew her along the side of the building, where the shadows were thickest.

"I did not save you from an assassin's dart only to see you run into a nest of vipers, little Ariadne," he scolded gently.

"Lord Hermes, why would you aid me?" she stammered. "I don't worship you, I am the Mother's Chosen."

"Does it matter? We are all of one family. Besides, I like you, ever since you called on me that day when you rode your brother's stallion."

"But I thought gods were not allowed to interfere with mortals directly."

"We aren't usually," he shrugged. "But I break rules when it suits me. Besides, what _they_ have done is an affront to all immortals, not just Dia. Even I will not forgive their actions. This way, I will have my revenge and keep you safe all at once."

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but the Master of Shadows shook his head._ Veiled in shadows, concealed from mortal sight, strike swiftly as an adder in the night. In the name of the Lords of Olympus, I bid you go and avenge us, child!_ A cloak of darkness fell about her, impenetrable as night, though she found she could see through it as clearly as if it were brightest day.

"My thanks, Lord of Shadows. May your fleet fingers cross your palm with gold," she said, giving the traditional farewell of thieves devoted to Hermes.

_And may shadows guide your feet to safe haven,_ came the laughing response. _Farewell, little Ariadne._

When she glanced behind her, the god had vanished. Muffled by Hermes spell of silence she entered the temple.

The sight that met her eyes made her want to scream until she was hoarse. Debris cluttered the halls, broken vases and priceless art donated to the temple were smashed to oblivion. here and there fires raged, consuming texts that had lasted throughout centuries, knowledge lost beyond recall. Tapestries had been hacked in two, rent by swords, blood spattered the walls and floor in lurid crimson on the white stone. Even the air stank of death where once it had smelled only of incense and sweet roses.

But that was not the worst. The worst were the bodies of her priestesses, limp on the floor, killed as they ran for cover, cut down for no better reason than that they were in the way. She stepped over them, closing sightless eyes, her own filling with tears. These had been her sisters, her friends, her family. And they had died horribly, raped and murdered in the one place on Knossos that should have been sacrosanct.

_Rest easily, my sisters. Your betrayal does not go unpunished._

Eyes burning, she continued, her keen ears hearing the echoes of male laughter.

She came upon two of them, already half drunk on wine plundered from the temple storeroom, joking about their prowess as lovers. Green fire danced from her fingers, and they withered where they stood, as she used her Gift of fertility in reverse. They died never knowing what had hit them.

She stalked through the temple like the wind of death and all who met her gaze died. Once she came upon three men taking turns atop a young novice. Those she killed with her dagger, declaring them worse than pigs, an insult to all of Crete. Then she sent the battered girl into a deep and healing sleep, from which she would emerge healed and with no memory of what had occurred.

One out of a hundred, she thought wearily. But none of the slain had been Phaedra. Nor had Elaisia been among their number, and she would have bet her life that the senior priestess would not have died without a fight. _May your soul suffer in Hades, brother! May your deeds be visited back on you threefold._

At last she came to the lower levels of the temple, where the bales of grain and fruit were stored. The glint of weapons and the thud of wood striking a wall warned her that she was not alone.

She slowed and peered around the corner of the passage. Down a short corridor were five men, obviously the captains by their armor and scarlet kilts trimmed with gold. Two of them had dragged a wooden beam from the rafters free and were running at the sturdy oak and iron barred door, trying to break it down.

The other three crouched with weapons drawn, prepared to slay. Ariadne hesitated. There were too many for her to use her Gift on effectively, besides which, the use to which her Gift had been put was a heavy drain on her. Her limbs felt like lead, heavy and unwieldy, and were it not for the shadow spell she would have been cut down in minutes. The door shuddered, wood buckling. It would not stand up to much more pounding.

Amid the soldiers curses she heard the low sobbing of women and girls. Elaisia! And perhaps Phaedra was with her. Suddenly she felt the Goddess rise within her, and her power was restored. Ariadne stepped into the corridor, knowing in an instant how she would defeat this group of jackals.

With a sweep of her arms, she dismissed the veil of shadows.

The men gasped in alarm, then they laughed. "Look, Saros, it's another one. Pretty too!"

"It's my turn, Edaros!" cried his companion, a burly man with long locks perfumed with citrus. "You got the last one."

"Hey, that ain't fair," chimed in a third. "How come you get the best ones?"

The two holding the beam halted upon hearing this. "Quit your whining, Cletas!" one ordered. "When we break down the door, they'll be plenty for all of us. And they know it too."

_"Silence!"_ Ariadne commanded, and in her voice was the ancient power of the Goddess, before whom all mortals must bow. Drawing upon every ounce of presence she could summon, she glared at them and such was the power of her gaze that the three found themselves unable to move.

"You dare to enter the holy precincts uninvited? With such thoughts in your minds? Defilers! To rape and murder without remorse? For this I declare you outcast, cursed to everlasting darkness. For this I declare you pariahs, a shame to the mothers who bore you. In the name of Mother Dia, whose Handmaiden I am, I hereby sentence you to death! May the Furies give you the afterlife you have earned."

Green light blazed about her. The soldiers cried out, shielding their eyes from the light. Panicked they fell to their knees. "Mercy, Mistress, I beg of you!" one cried. "We but followed Minotauros's dream."

"And see how it has betrayed you." Her face was cold and passionless as marble. "I will show you the same mercy you showed the priestesses of the Mother, blasphemer."

Then she lifted her foot and stamped it down hard on the ground, calling on the powers of the earth to avenge her children.

A low rumble began. Then the earth bucked like a runaway horse and split open in a deep fissure, stinking with sulfur. Screaming, the last of Minotauros's House Guard fell into the abyss. Ariadne lifted her arms above her head and clapped her hands sharply. The magic of the earth flowed through her. The cavernous fissure sealed itself, the stone melding smoothly back into shape.

Ariadne stepped to the door and knocked once, calling out, "Elaisia? Open this door. It's Ariadne."

"Ariadne? Praise the Mother! We'd thought you dead." The sound of bolts being released came to her ears. "Are they all gone, Lady?"

"They are. The Mother stretched out her Hand and paid them for their presumption." Ariadne answered, knowing Elaisia would understand.

Then the door was flung open and she was caught in the strong embrace of the elder priestess. "My Lady! Thank the Mother that you are unharmed."

Others crowded to the door, wide-eyed with shock and fright. Gently, Ariadne thrust them aside, peering into the room for the one she sought.

Phaedra crouched near the wall, scythe clenched in her fist.

"Phaedra?" Ariadne called softly, taking a step forward.

"Ariadne!" The weapon clattered to the floor, forgotten, as her sister raced into her arms and clung to her, sobbing with relief.

* * * * * *

"Theseus, what happens to us now?" Thea asked, her face still pale from her near brush with death four days before. The Ospreys stood about her, waiting expectantly. All had escaped the earthquake that had leveled the Labyrinth unscathed thanks to Amnerion's swift reflexes.

The tall Athenian tousled her hair. "Now we go home, little one. To Athens."

"We're free then?" Pyrrha cried. "But how?"

"We swore an oath to Poseidon," Cytheria reminded. "He'll curse us if we break it."

"But the Bull Court was destroyed," Kerkyon pointed out. "Where will we live?"

"Quiet, all of you!" Amnerion roared. "Let Prince Theseus speak!"

Shamefacedly, they grew silent, looking like chastened children before a stern patriarch. Theseus flashed Amnerion a grateful smile and continued. "The debt we incurred to Poseidon has been paid in full. We of Athens are no longer bound by Aegithros's blood price. We are free men and women again."

"We need no longer dance the bulls?" Diocles cried in amazement.

"Not unless you wish to," answered Theseus.

"How was the debt paid, my lord?" Hylo asked softly.

"By a substitute sacrifice."

"Whose?" Amnerion whispered.

"Minotauros. His madness stirred the gods to anger. Poseidon Chose me as his instrument of vengeance. His death set us free." the Athenian told him softly.

"When can we go home?" Thea squealed, suddenly a child once more and not a serene bull dancer.

"As soon as a ship can be made ready and the tides are good." Theseus grinned. "If we're lucky, we'll set sail in a few days."

The rest of what he was about to say was drowned out in the cheer that rose from the throats of the thirteen Athenians who lifted him up on their shoulders and paraded him around the room they'd been given in a wild victory paean. He smiled and laughed along with them, but his heart was not in it, glad though he was to be going home to Athens. For if he left, he did not know when he would ever see Ariadne again. She was his heart, his soul, his beloved. But she was also Priestess-Queen of Knossos. Could he convince her to leave with him? In Athens she could be Queen and priestess both. And more, she would be his wife. If she agreed . . . But surely she must. They were destined to be together.

**So, what did you think of the way Ariadne handled those evil men?**

**Next: Now Ariadne is sole ruler of Knossos and anointed Queen. And at last the lovers can be together . . .or do the gods have other plans?**


	16. Chapter 15

SHE FELT HIM BEFORE she saw him, his presence was like a warm glow on her skin, like sunlight on flower petals. Her heart leaped in response, thundering in her chest like a runaway stallion. She was not surprised he had found his way to her private apartments, nor that he had been admitted without challenge. She herself had granted him leave to go where he wished, as befitted visiting royalty. Without turning around, she said, "Hello, Theseus."

"Ariadne." His voice was like velvet, warm and enclosing, it rubbed against her with skin-stroking richness. She could have listened to him for hours. "Are you all right?" He came to her side.

"Yes." She turned to face him. "It's my city that needs to be rebuilt, not me," she said lightly.

"Your masons seem to be doing a fine job."

"They are, thanks to Daedelus's guidance. The man knows more about architecture and construction than any man has a right to. He's already come up with a design that will make Knossos' new homes and businesses earthquake proof." She shook her head in wonder. "I don't half understand it. Some sort of system of interlocking blocks held together without mortar. But I'll leave the details to him, he's wiser than I."

"He's been here a long time, hasn't he?"

"Since before I was born, I think. He was Aegithros's and my tutor when we were children. My father valued him above all other advisors, in spite of the fact that he came to us a pauper with nothing but the shirt on his back, washed up from the sea after a shipwreck. Sometimes I think that was the best decision my father ever made, allowing Daedelus to remain a free man and be his advisor. Slavery would have broken his spirit, no matter how light the chains."

"He doesn't strike me as a frail man."

"He isn't now. Then . . .well, he'd just lost his only son in a fall off a cliff. He was sailing away to escape his guilt over the boy's death. When his ship sank, he figured he would be reunited with Icarus in the Underworld. He was prepared to die. My father gave him a reason to live. He's been invaluable to us ever since. If he ever left, I think Knossos would fall apart."

"And what if I left?"

His words struck her like a pail of icy water, stunning her. He had come to her to pay a debt and now that debt was paid, he could, of course return to Athens. Yet she had never expected he'd leave so soon. She hadn't expected him to leave at all. "Is that what you came to tell me?" she asked hoarsely. "That you were leaving?"

"No. I came to ask if you would come with me."

"Theseus, I can't." The words came out haltingly, rough with pain. "No matter how much I wish to, I am Priestess-Queen of Knossos. My people need me."

"Do they? Ariadne, I know you feel responsible for them, but you can't lead them by the hand forever. I'm not saying abandon them, but you can rule just as well from Athens as from Crete."

"You're not being sensible, my lord. I cannot remain absent from Knossos for a long time and still be a good Queen. My people have endured the rule of two poor rulers, one concerned only with his own pleasure and the other with power. I vowed that would not happen again if I could prevent it. Now I can. I will be the Queen my mother was and should have been always."

" I know. I have no doubt that Knossos will prosper. But what of you? Will you always sacrifice yourself for your people?"

"A Queen's duty is to her people first. Surely you know that, prince of Athens."

"I know!" he growled, his voice rising in frustration. "It is why I have to leave. Were it not for them and the fact that I was born a king's son, I'd stay with you forever. But I promised my father I'd return if I could, and I am his only heir, unlike you."

"What do you mean?"

"You have Phaedra. She could be named your successor, rule with a regent until she comes of age. If you come with me, you'll not leave Crete rulerless."

"You can't be serious! Theseus, she's just a child, and a selfish one at that! She doesn't have the faintest idea about responsibility or duty or anything beyond her own foolish desires."

"Neither did I, at her age. Nor you, I'd imagine. But she'll learn. We all did. Turn the regency over to Daedelus, he'll know how to keep her in line and keep the city running smoothly. He'd never betray you. And you can make the major decisions, if necessary, by courier bird. It could work."

"Oh gods, I don't know. I feel as if I'm running away. And what of the temple? Who'll train the novices and lead the ceremonies? I am High Priestess for life."

"You have a second, right? What's her name . . . Elaisia. She could do all those things in your absence. Ariadne, please! You told me once before that our destinies were bound together. How can that be if we're an ocean away?"

"I don't know. I haven't had the Sight since the night we faced Minotauros. Before, I always knew my destiny. Now . . ."

"Listen to me. What if your destiny is to come with me? We'll rule together, Athens and Crete. Yes, I know that sounds mad, but why not? We could do it, you and I, and neither of us would ever worry about abandoning our responsibilities. Ariadne, I love you. I want you to be my wife. You've always been alone. But now you're not. I can help you, if you'll let me."

She stared into his aquamarine eyes, so full of life, of passion, of love, and she knew then and there that she could not bear to let him go. Her Gift had bound them, heart and soul, till death and beyond. Even had she wished, she could not undo it. Nor did she wish to. If only she could be certain that this was the right thing to do . . .Closing her eyes, she sought for her link with the Goddess. But no bright presence filled her. She knew then that the Mother meant for her to make her own choice.

She lifted her head, her emerald eyes meeting his. "I love you, Theseus. I always have. That's why I . . ." she paused, while he waited, hardly daring to breathe, for her reply. " . . .must come with you. A queen can rule without her heart, but she cannot live. And you are my heart."

"As you are mine," Theseus murmured, and kissed her with all of the pent up passion he'd been feeling since he'd first seen her.

Laughing, she kissed him back. "I've had enough of fate. We've fulfilled our destinies. Now it's our turn."

Theseus agreed, recalling the prophecy spoken by Poseidon the day of the lottery. _If you give your heart to the Falcon, you will know destiny's promise . . ._and he had given his heart and she had given him hers in return. And in the end that was all that mattered.

"We sail in three days," he murmured into her ear. "Will you be ready?"

Ariadne grinned. "Of course. I work best under pressure."

He raised an eyebrow in a lazy arch. "Really? Someday, when we have more time, we'll have to test that theory . . ."

TEN DAYS OUT OF Knossos they reached the island of Naxos, a halfway mark in their journey to the rocky coast of Greece. It was a beautiful place surrounded on all sides by cobalt water, peaceful and serene as the people who made their home there. They were small and dark of hair, like their Cretan cousins, and they shared the same religion, with the goddess Dia as their principle deity. They had built a small city of white marble and wood surrounded on all sides by lush tropical vegetation. They had a busy port, for ships bound for Crete often stopped there to restock supplies and trade, and ships bound for Athens did the same. But for the most part, Naxos remain undisturbed, an island of peace, untouched by war or famine or the political concerns of the greater city-states in the Aegean.

While the captain of _The Gull_ refilled water casks and traded for food and other necessary supplies, Theseus and Ariadne explored the beaches of diamond-colored sand, collecting shells and swimming in the clear cobalt water, content to simply be together. Day by day the bond between them deepened, until they hardly needed words, each anticipated the other before they spoke. At the same time, Ariadne learned to keep a corner of her thoughts walled off, for even an empath desired privacy, and there were things too personal to share even with her beloved. She taught Theseus the trick too, that he might never come to resent the bond between them.

Walking beside him, his arm wrapped about her waist, barefoot, she had never felt so free in her life. For the first time in her life she was free of obligation, of duty, free to simply be who and what she was. It exhilarated her beyond words. Yet even as she reveled in her newfound freedom, a small corner of her mind wondered how long it would last. For her heart told her that such freedom did not come without a price and very often the price demanded would be higher than anticipated. _But haven't we paid enough? Surely the fates would not be that cruel. We were meant to be together forever, I know that as surely as I know my heart. Then why can't I let go of these reservations and be truly happy? I made the right choice. I belong at his side, now and forever._

Shaking her head, she brushed the lingering uneasiness aside. It had no place here. She would live for today and not worry about tomorrow. All that mattered was that they were together, here, now, this moment. She refused to waste this precious time fretting about what might be.

Turning suddenly, she wrapped her arms about his waist, drawing him close to her. "Theseus," she whispered his name like a talisman that would shield her from the darkness.

"What is it, little goddess?" he asked, using the nickname he had given her the day she had dedicated him in the temple. It was somewhat blasphemous, but she did not mind as much as she should have, for she knew he intended no disrespect to either the Goddess she worshipped or herself.

"Hold me." Tendrils of black hair blew into her eyes, momentarily obscuring her vision.

He did as she wished, not understanding her uneasiness, but feeling it nevertheless. She leaned her head on his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart. Gradually the uneasiness faded, replaced by a far different longing. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him ardently. "Make love to me," she whispered, breathless with need.

"Here? Now?" he was startled, having intended to move slowly with his seduction, knowing she had never been with a man before. "Don't you want to wait –?" _for a bed, at least._

"No. All that matters is here and now. I have known your heart, your thoughts." Her hands slid down his shoulders, teasing and tantalizing. "Now I want to know your body, the way a wife and husband know each other. I love you, even if you are an Athenian barbarian," she said, giving him an impish grin that he adored.

"A barbarian, am I?" he laughed. "Well, if I'm a barbarian, then you are a witch, my lady. A witch that has seduced me with her magic gaze."

"It is you who have magic eyes, not me," Ariadne corrected softly, her hands undoing his tunic pin. "I have never seen eyes the color of aquamarine before. Sea eyes, sorcerous eyes, that make me lose all reason."

His hands tangled in her hair, removing the pins she had bound it with until it flew free and unfettered about her like an ebony cloak. His tunic and cloak dropped to the sand in a pool of fabric. They followed as swiftly, their passion burning as bright as the stars above them. And there, amidst the silence and the waves, he showed her what it meant to fly and together they soared until they became one, in body and soul, and knew a happiness so consuming, so sublime, that it left them breathless, unable to speak past the knot of emotions. So they lay drowsing in each other's arms, until lulled by the hush of the sea, they fell asleep.

* * * * * *

Ariadne jerked awake, a terrible foreboding settling on her, making her shiver uncontrollably. Entwined in Theseus's arms, she buried her face in his hair, seeking to forget the dream that had been sent her, a portent of such clarity that she knew beyond denying that it was a True Seeing. She closed her eyes, breathing in his cool scent, but the Vision seared her, relentless in its clarity.

_They returned to Athens, and at first were greeted with smiles and laughter. But that was in the beginning. The smiles of several Athenian nobles concealed poisoned tongues, tongues that did not desire to see a foreigner, much less the daughter of the king who had made slaves of their children, made queen over them. Poisoned by hate, they plotted the downfall of their prince. Betrayed by one of his own, he was set upon and pulled down, torn to pieces for the amusement of the mob, his kingdom lost forever to darkness and treachery, never to know the greatness he had intended. They made her watch, until the pain drove her mad, and then they killed her, casting her into the tumultuous sea, where she drowned . . ._

Then, just when she thought she would die from horror, the Mother came to her, soothing and calm. _Hear me, Daughter. All that you Saw will come to pass should you return now. Your time is not yet. His kingdom is not yet won, though he believes it so. He will learn otherwise. And he must win it alone, as his forefathers did. The Fates have set their hand upon him, and neither you nor I may interfere. If you heed me not, the vision you dreamed will become truth, and he will die betrayed. But know this: even the Fates may not deny love, and when it is time, you may return to him and know destiny's promise unending._

_ Must it be so, Mother? Is there no other way?_

_ Only what you Saw._

_ It will break his heart—and mine—if I leave him._

_ Better a broken heart than a dead one. The choice, as always, is yours, Ariadne. Choose wisely._

Then she was gone. Ariadne cursed long and bitterly, railing against the Fates that had given her the Sight and her destiny, then took it back with one careless flick. This was the price demanded of her then, the price of abandoning her kingdom and winning his. She must sacrifice his happiness in return for his life, or else lose all that might have been.

Her heart almost failed her then, as she gazed at him sleeping on the sand, gold hair pale against his sun bronzed skin, a smile playing across his lips even as he slept. Dreaming, she realized, and his dreams were innocent, filled with love and hope. So unlike her own.

Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks, falling like rain upon the sand. There was no other choice. She must leave him. She would have far rather torn out her heart and left it beating on the sand than endure this pain, yet endure she must. He would not understand if she told him what she had dreamed. He would seek a way around it, and in so doing defy the Fates and once roused they would show him no mercy.

But how could she leave him?

_Better a broken heart than a dead one._

The Goddess's implacable words rang in her ears, bitter as hemlock.

But she could not deny their truth. To keep him safe she would do what the gods demanded. She loved him far too much to do otherwise. She had not saved him from Minotauros only to have him die at the hands of his own countrymen. She slipped from his embrace, stood staring down on him. _This last time, I will do as the gods bid me. As I have done all of my life. If it will save his life, I will betray him, for what I do now will seem like the bitterest betrayal. He will hate me for it, but better he be alive to hate me than dead for me to mourn._

Half-blinded by tears, she sought among the folds of her gown for a pocket in which she kept a sheet of papyrus and a small charcoal stick. She would leave him, but not without an explanation. He deserved that much at least, then to be abandoned without a word. She wrote hastily, a few lines only, before she had to stop; her tears would make the ink illegible. Carefully, she folded it, then slipped it beneath his hand, where he would be certain to find it. Then she bent and kissed him softly, one last time. He stirred then, half-waking, and reached for her. Gently, she patted his hand, and used her Gift to send him back into slumber. "Farewell, my love. You'll be in my heart always."

Then she reached down within herself and severed the bond between them, for she could not bear to feel his pain and hurt when he awoke and found her gone. The pain of the severed bond burned like a raw wound sprayed with salt, but she welcomed the pain. She deserved it and more. Hastily she pulled on her clothes, for the first pale light of dawn tinted the sky.

Then she stood mute, unable to take the last few steps away. _I can't do this. I can't. I love him._

A sudden gust of wind caught her hair, tugging it playfully. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, Hermes stood before her.

"Come, Ariadne," he said and held out his hand. "I will hide you until he leaves." There was no merriment in his gold eyes now.

"You're in on this too?" she snarled, furious that he would tamely do their bidding.

"The Fates command even the gods," he answered sadly. "You must leave now, while there is still time."

Wordlessly, she put her hand in his. To her surprise it was warm, and felt as mortal as her own. He caught her startled look and one corner of his mouth twitched. "Even the gods bleed. And feel pain. We're not all that different from mortals, you know."

"Different enough," she replied bitterly, too hurt to even marvel at what he had just revealed to her.

Hermes sighed, he most of all wished he could spare her this, but even he was no match for destiny. With a thought, he summoned the shadows that were his mastery and hid them from sight. Then he led her a short way up the coast, to a small cave in the hillside, where no man had ever ventured. And there he hid her, lost to mortal sight and perception, until Theseus had stopped calling and searching for his lost love and allowed himself to be led away by Amnerion, leaving behind the pieces of a shattered heart and a dream that had died with the coming of dawn.

Ariadne watched until the ship was out of sight, then fell to the ground and sobbed her grief into the sand, where her tears mingled with the sea in bitter harmony. She could not return to Crete, for she could not bear all the questions she would face or the knowing looks of sympathy and derision. Then too, that would be the first place he would look for her. No, she would remain here, on Naxos, in exile, until the gods relented.

She rose and began to brush the sand from her robe. She felt a sudden flutter inside of her, almost like a butterfly beating its wings. It was so faint she barely noticed it. But she moved her hand over her abdomen again. And again she felt a tiny flicker of awareness. Barely daring to hope, she drew on her Gift, and it was then she felt the first stirrings of awareness, as the child inside awoke at her touch. Exiled she might be, but at least she would not be lonely. Cradling her stomach, she emerged from the cave and walked up the beach toward the temple of the Mother.

* * * * * *

Amnerion paced restlessly to and fro outside Theseus' cabin, running his hands through his jet black hair in barely controlled frustration. The Athenian prince had not emerged from his cabin in over three days, ever since they had been forced to sail from Naxos without Ariadne, who had mysteriously disappeared. The guard captain had never seen his friend so inconsolable, so utterly beside himself. The Theseus he had known previously would have ranted and raved a day or two, then gone on with his life, with barely a sigh of longing at lost chances. His motto had always been: there are always more women, better, prettier, and smarter than the last. But when he had woken to find Ariadne gone, with only a scrawled note to explain her absence, it was as if that vital spark that made him what he was died, never to be rekindled.

He had searched for hours, calling until his voice had gone hoarse, quartering every stretch of beach, searching every house and shop, asking every passerby and child in sight if they had seen her. At last Amnerion had been forced to drag him on board the ship, for the captain had to catch the next tide without delay. The guard captain would never forget the look of utter desolation in the aquamarine eyes as the ship sailed away. The warrior had seen men with spears in their hearts look better than his friend had at that moment. Then Theseus had entered his cabin, locked the door, and had remained within ever since. Only by the occasional spates of cursing did Amnerion know that his prince still lived.

But after three days, Amnerion had decided something must be done. It was unhealthy for anyone to brood alone so long, and all of the Ospreys feared that he had somehow gone mad with grief and might seek to end his life. So they had elected Amnerion as their spokesperson, to go and knock on the door and demand that Theseus let him in. The warrior shook his head ruefully; his countrymen knew well enough that only he had a chance in hell of getting Theseus to open the door and surviving the prince's temper once it was open.

But it had taken him the better part of an hour to gather his courage together and bang on the door. So far he had gotten no response. "Theseus! Damn it, open the door!" he ordered in the most commanding tone he could muster. "You can't spend your whole life in there, hiding like a frightened mouse. What spell did she cast over you, to unman you so?"

There was a muffled thump, as of a sandal hitting the floor, followed by a string of words so profane that a sailor passing by reddened in embarrassment. Amnerion waited, bracing himself. The door was jerked open.

"What the hell do you want, Amnerion?" Theseus snarled, his aquamarine eyes bloodshot, his blond hair an unkempt tangle. His clothes were stained with wine, apparently the cabin had been well stocked, a fact which the bull leaper had taken advantage of. His face bore a day's growth of beard, he looked as scruffy as any wharfside sailor Amnerion had ever encountered working on a ten day drunk. "Go away. I don't want to be disturbed." He made as if to slam the door.

Amnerion caught it with one hand. "Too bad," he growled, his own temper sparking. "Drowning in drink and self-pity never helped anyone."

"Enough lectures, Captain," the Athenian prince spat, a sullen rage flaring in his eyes. "Leave now, or I'll make you regret the day you were born."

"Can't do that, wouldn't even if I could," the ebony-haired warrior answered calmly. "The last thing you need right now is to be alone."

"Get out, damn you!" Furious, he swung at the other man, but in his drunken state, he missed his target by a mile. He drew back his fist again, but this time Amnerion caught it and wrestled his arm down. "You son-of-a-bitch, I'll punch your lights out for that!"

"What the blazes has gotten into you?" Amnerion demanded, his jaw clenching. "And where by all the gods is Ariadne?"

"Don't ever mention her name in my presence!" Theseus snarled, eyes burning with terrible fury.

For one moment Amnerion feared he would break free and attack his friend, so great was the rage in his eyes. But Amnerion was too stubborn to back down, even when the odds were against him. The Athenian prince was as close to him as a brother and he could not let this situation continue without at least trying to help. Amnerion pushed him inside the cabin and shut the door. "All right. Talk to me. What went wrong between you? Last time I looked, I could have sworn you were going to marry her."

"Here," Theseus opened his hand, held out a crumpled piece of paper.

Amnerion took it, squinted and read. It said that she must leave him for a time, that the Goddess had foretold that he must win his kingdom alone, without her. If the Fates allowed, they would be reunited soon. It was signed Ariadne.

"I don't understand," Amnerion frowned.

"What's not to understand? She's gone, she _left_ me. One minute I was holding her in my arms and then I fell asleep. When I woke I was alone. Only that remained. She betrayed me, Amnerion."

"You can't know that." Amnerion began. "She loved you, even I could see it. There had to be some reason . . ."

"No. Don't make excuses for her. She turned her back on me. I was willing to make her my _wife_, Amnerion, Queen of Crete and Athens. And she spit on me! Well I'll have no more of her! Let her go to her cold Goddess and see how much comfort she gets."

"Theseus . . ."

"Not another word." He ordered coldly. This time Amnerion shut his mouth. Sensing he could be of no more use, the captain bowed once and left. Theseus stared at the piece of paper in his fist, the pain of her betrayal searing his soul like a firebrand. He jerked open the door, stepped out onto the deck. Leaning over the rail, he peered down at the wind tossed waves. Nothing mattered anymore.

Betrayed.

By the one he had gifted with his heart and soul.

Anger surged in him. With a wild cry, he hurled the paper out into the dark water. Slowly it sank beneath the waves. He watched it, and thought _now I am rid of her forever._ But if that were so, then why did he feel as if he had cast part of his soul into the sea along with the letter?

For long moments he stared out at the waves, sea spray mingling with tears on his face. Through long agonizing hours he had turned her words over in his mind, seeking to understand her reason for leaving. But he could no more comprehend her mind than a bird could teach a fish to fly. The link that had bound them was broken, and only one person could have broken it. It proved irrevocably that she had left him for good. He swore bitterly. She had not even taken the time to say goodbye, but had fled like a thief into the night.

Bitter and hurt, the Athenian prince hardened his heart against the last image he had of Ariadne, warm and loving, curled asleep in his arms. She had betrayed him in the worst way a woman could betray a man. But never again.

He kept to himself the rest of the voyage to Athens and so lost was he in bitterness and anger that he left the black flag flying as the ship sailed into the harbor. King Aegeus, upon seeing it, assumed his heir was dead, and in a fit of grief, climbed to the very summit of the Rock and cast himself into the sea, that he might join his son in the afterworld. Thus Theseus returned home a king, ruler of a kingdom that was slowly being torn apart by internal strife, as various petty barons fought over lands and privelges like mice over a stale piece of cheese. And so Theseus returned to sounds of mourning, the same sounds he had heard upon departing, and he laughed mockingly.

Better Ariadne was not with him. Athens teetered on the brink of civil war, and only a warrior king ruling with a strict hand could keep the peace. He almost welcomed the coming battles, for he could lose himself in the clash of steel and blood and forget the emerald eyes and laughter that haunted his dreams. And then he did as the Fates dictated, and won his kingdom by the sword and fire, as his ancestors had done of old. And he never spoke of Ariadne again.

**And so we've come full circle with what happened in the past, before Ariadne went into exile on Naxos.**

**Part Two will deal with what happens when she returns to Athens to win Theseus back, but she finds more than she bargained for.**


	17. Chapter 16

**Part 2 **

**THE RETURN**

**Chapter 16**

PHAEDRA HUMMED SOFTLY TO herself as she brushed her waist length hair, which had ripened over the years from a light brown to a rich honey color. It was a vast improvement she felt, and was wont to twist and curl it in all the latest styles. Her hair was the one thing that set her apart from the other Cretans, as all save her sported dark hair and eyes. Phaedra lacked the green eyes of her priestess mother and sister, but her honey hair more than made up for that deficiency. The years had been kind, increasing her natural attributes considerably. She was not tall, but neither was she short, standing somewhere between five feet four inches and five foot five inches. She was slightly tanned and possessing a body that could only be called lush. She had inherited the high elegant bone structure of her mother as well as the full pouty lips of her father. She had long ago learned how to play up on her looks and beneath her doll-like prettiness lurked a mind as calculating and cool as an Athenian moneylender's.

Since Ariadne's voluntary exile, she had been named heir, and had become used to the trappings of power and prestige. Daedelus, ever the conscientious advisor, had done his best to instill in the spoiled girl a sense of responsibility and respect for her people. He was successful to an extent, for Phaedra learned how to control her temper and think carefully before she acted in most cases. But there was no denying that while not as selfish or cruel as her half-brother Minotauros, Phaedra thought first of herself and only later about her subjects. She preferred to delegate the more tiresome duties of ruling to Daedelus or another advisor, thus leaving her more time for other things. Like her father before her she had a weakness for pretty things and for bed sport, though she was more discreet in her choice of partners than Minos had been. Five years had changed the spoiled princess into a calculating ruler, one who would take what she desired no matter the cost. Only one thing had remained beyond her grasp.

Theseus, king of Athens.

Until now. For at long last he had responded to her offer of betrothal. A contented smile curled about her lips. It had taken five long years to at last crack the shell the Athenian king had imposed about himself, but he had finally surrendered, as she had known he must. His realm was strong now and ready to seek alliances with other great city-states. And Crete still remained a powerful city, albeit not the dominating force it had once been. And what better way to cement his power but with alliance to the Royal House of Knossos? By marrying Phaedra, Theseus would become ruler over Crete and Athens, and any heir she bore him would further his claim. Athens would benefit from Cretan architecture and commerce as well as gaining the great Cretan navy. Theseus would be master of both land and sea, as befitted a Chosen of Poseidon Sea Lord. He had only to reach out his hand in marriage.

And at last he had agreed. Phaedra tossed the brush down on her dresser with a soft laugh of triumph. At last she would have the one her sister had stolen from her so long ago, the bold Athenian who should have been hers from the beginning. And unlike Ariadne, once he was hers, Phaedra would never let him go. Neither man nor gods would stand in her way. Theseus would be her husband, and she would be his Queen, the most powerful woman in all of Crete and Achaeia combined. As she had been born to be.

She clapped her hands, summoning her maids. All must be made ready for the journey to Athens. Nothing must be left out. For she went not only to reaffirm her betrothal ties, but to seduce the former bull leaper. There was no doubt in her mind that she could do so, for he was vulnerable without Ariadne, and no man on Crete had ever been able to resist her when she set her mind on him. She had been trained by the best, the priestesses of Aphrodite, skilled in intrigue and love. Theseus had not a prayer. He would fall prey to her as easily as a hare to a fox. And would not realize he had done so until it was too late. And by then she would rule all of Athens and Crete, as she had always been destined to do.

* * * * *

The sleek trading vessel _Amphitrite_ set sail on a clear day filled with sunshine. Ariadne leaned over the port bow, watching the waves lap gently against the ship's prow, squinting occasionally at the dazzling sparks upon the aqua water. Suddenly a sleek gray shape broke the surface, chattering a greeting. Ariadne smiled. Dolphins were a good omen, signifying Poseidon's blessing upon the voyage, for the Sea Lord loved the playful intelligent animals.

A child's sunny laughter echoed over the water, luring the dolphins closer to the ship. Ariadne turned to gaze at the slender sprite who leaned perilously close to the side, one hand reaching out to stroke an inquisitive delphine nose. The sight brought gasps from the watching sailors, but Ariadne was not surprised.

Like her mother, Ariadne's daughter was blessed by the gods, Gifted with the ability to communicate with animals, in addition to the Sight. Though only five, the child was unusually precocious for her age, possessed of an inquisitive and bold nature, that made Ariadne both proud and concerned, for she knew no fear of anything or anyone. The child resembled her mother in all save her wide eyes. Those were identical to her father's, far-seeing orbs of brilliant aquamarine, as mystical as the sea itself. Everytime Ariadne gazed upon her daughter, she felt a pang of loss for the man she had been forced to give up, for the years lost and the love denied.

_But soon our time of exile will be ended, my love. Soon you and I will be as one again, and this time neither gods nor Fates will ever part us again!_

Somewhat comforted by her vow, Ariadne watched her daughter, who seemed to be speaking with the dolphin, for though playful, the creatures never stayed long within touching distance of humans unless compelled or trapped. Or asked, Ariadne thought, by one whose soul is nearer kin to them than even she knows. For Alethea, who had been named for the sacred rowan tree that overshadowed the temple of Dia, had Theseus's boldness in great measure. Hers was a wild spirit, as untamed as the creatures she befriended, and yet there were times when Ariadne saw an uncanny wisdom in those aqua eyes, a wisdom far beyond her years. It came, the High Priestess supposed, from the early awakening of Alethea's Gifts, for one such as she possessed a greater sense of awareness of the world than an ordinary mortal. It was both blessing and curse, this awareness, for it set the Gifted apart forever from their fellows. _And yet, little one, _Ariadne mused, _yours will be a kinder destiny than mine, I think._

Ariadne's eyes sought the sea, the shifting, ever-changing wine-dark sea, the sea that her beloved was so fond of. What would Theseus think of their child, the daughter he had never known? Would he reject her out of fury, punishing her for Ariadne's crimes? Or would he love her despite her mother's betrayal? Ariadne knew that her actions would be seen by him in no other light, at least not until she was given a chance to explain the reasons behind them. If he even permitted her that luxury. A wry chuckle escaped her. Permit, indeed! Since when does the Priestess-Queen of Knossos need permission from a man to do that which the Fates command? Was she not the Hand of the Mother, the mortal avatar of the Earth Goddess? Men were not meant to understand the reasons why the immortals commanded a thing be done, they only need do it. Ariadne had been more fortunate than most that her Goddess deigned to explain her methods, once in a great while, to her faithful. Poseidon did not give _his_ Chosen such liberties, as Theseus well knew. Somehow, someway she would make him understand, and with understanding must come forgiveness, for surely he had had not hardened his heart against her that much. He loved her still, she thought stubbornly. He must, else she was lost.

* * * * * *

Amnerion watched as the castle's scullions scurried to and fro in a frenzy to prepare the king's hall for the coming of his betrothed. The raven-haired guard captain grimaced with distaste at the thought. He had counselled against this betrothal for weary hours, but his protests fell upon deaf ears. Theseus was as stubborn now as he had been when they were boys on Troizen and he had his mind fixed upon something. Once the man desired something he was as immovable as stone until he had it. And as blind to what wanting this particular woman could mean for himself and his people.

One of the guards, he could not recall who, had likened the Princess of Knossos to a cobra, lovely to look at but with deadly little fangs. Truer words had never been spoken. Her poison could strike the heart, perhaps fatally, if not guarded against it.

_If Theseus does not see fit to protect himself from the scheming little bitch, be assured that **I** will._ Amnerion vowed fiercely. It was a duty he had long grown accustomed to, even to their childhood on the windswept rock of Troizen. Only one time had he felt his guardianship unnecessary, and that had been when Ariadne had been with his lord. Then there had been no need for vigilance, for what man needs protection from the other half of his soul?

Amnerion winced. Even now, five years later, he could not fathom what had gone wrong with them. Was it truly the will of the gods or some other reason that had lead Ariadne to abandon her lover that night? He could not know, probably never would know, for Theseus forbade anyone to speak of her. Amnerion had complied out of respect and compassion for his friend, but this once he wished he had not, for if Theseus had acknowledged his bitterness even a little, perhaps it would not have led him down the path he now walked.

The bitterness was not so apparent now as it had been five years before. Then it had been sharp enough to taste and it was well that there were enemies and wars to unleash it on, else it might have turned inward and scarred his lord's soul forever.

Those days had been full of turmoil, returning as they had from a land ravaged by divine wrath to one bemoaning the sudden loss of its ruler and ripe with civil unrest. There had been ample targets for the young king's bitter rage and also for The Ospreys to serve him as they had always done, guarding his back with their own. A few of their number had returned to their homes and resumed their former lives, though Amnerion often wondered if they ever truly forgot that they had been bull dancers, the elite of that select number, who had danced for the favor of the god upon the blazing white sands. It was not something one could forget, no matter how one wished to.

Others, including Pyrrha, Kerkyon, and even little Thea stayed on at court. With Theseus's permission, Amnerion formed the remaining Ospreys into an elite force of warriors, called the King's Falcons, his personal guard. Pyrrha, ever the reluctant Athenian maiden, defied custom and the will of her family to remain there, and recognizing a kindred soul in the fiery-haired maid, Amnerion made her his second, his Commander. She handled the responsibility competently, as he had expected. But the biggest surprise was Thea, the youngest member of the team. Amnerion and Theseus had fully expected her to return to her family and lead the life of a well-bred Athenian maid, marrying and bearing children. But she had declined, informing her lord in her quiet way that her true place was by his side, as a warrior. Amnerion had expected fierce opposition to her decision from her father and brother, who had fought like mad men to prevent her from being sent to Crete. But strangely they accepted her wishes, and the only sense Amnerion could make of it was that they were so grateful to get her back that they would agree to anything if it made her happy. And she was, not even the harsh life of a Falcon dimming her sunny disposition. The kitten, Amnerion reflected wryly, had grown into a tigress, and woe betide the man who thought otherwise. Thea might seem fragile, but her spirit was as wild as Pyrrha's in her own way, and she had matured into a strong willed woman who knew her destiny and followed it unhesitatingly.

It was she who had first protested Theseus's contract with Phaedra, which shocked Amnerion, for she had never before criticized her lord, whom she adored. But she had said, "I know when a man's making a fool of himself, Captain, king or not. And this is the most unwise decision I have ever seen. Have a treaty with her, but don't invite her into your house. I'd sooner invite a cobra into my bed that that sly witch, royal blood or no! Ariadne was ten times the Queen than _she'll_ ever be, a true High Priestess of the Mother. Phaedra has not even the sanction of the gods for her rule, only the permission of her Regent."

Amnerion only nodded, not caring to dispute her words, for they were all true and mirrored his own feelings about the match. No good would come of this betrothal and much sorrow. But he was powerless to halt it; the best he could do was to wait and watch and offer his support when the little witch betrayed him, as there was no doubt that she would, for Amnerion saw in her an ambition that was as obsessive in its way as Minotauros's had been. Ariadne alone had escaped the taint that seemed to run in the blood of her House. It was a pity that she was gone, for she would have made a fine Queen of Athens and the two would have ruled as none had ever ruled before, bringing peace and prosperity to their war-torn kingdoms.

Sighing, the raven-haired warrior shook his head. No sense in daydreaming about what could have been. It would only make him more melancholy, and he needed all his wits about him if he were to stay one step ahead of Phaedra. The Princess of Knossos regarded him as nothing more than a soldier, inconsequential in the grand design. She would find out differently, and not to her liking. For he owed loyalty to Theseus alone and he was not turned by a pretty face or seductive smile.

* * * * * *

Ariadne had worn a beautiful lavender colored dress, a garment that flowed in soft folds to her feet, cinched with a belt of silver links set with an emerald cabochon. Her hair she wore partially twisted in a coronet and the rest left to flow down her back in a wave of midnight silk. About her neck was an amber sheaf of wheat, symbol of Mother Dia. On her feet were dainty sandals of beaten silver. The effect was startling, making it appear as if she had stepped from the realms of the immortals, an ethereal creature spun of moonlight and dreams.

At least that was how Amnerion described her sometime later to Pyrrha, once he got over the shock of seeing the vanished Queen of Knossos appear in front of him. At first the raven-haired warrior did not recognise her, taking her for the daughter of some rich nobleman. It was not until she approached him and whispered softly, "Have I changed so much, Amnerion?" that he started and blinked.

"Do I know you, Lady?" he inquired, frowning, trying to recall where he had seen her before. Her beauty dazzled the eye, pure and fresh as spring itself, without the artifice of so many of the high court ladies. Then he caught sight of the amber pendant and he blinked as if pole-axed. "Hand of the Goddess! Ariadne!"

She nodded, her evergreen eyes dancing with a faint hint of mischief. "It is her wish that I return. And mine as well."

Amnerion's handsome face suddenly lost its smile. Could it be she did not know? Of course not, how could she? "My Lady. . .I mean, Your Majesty," he began, stammering, only then recalling that she was now Queen as well as High Priestess.

"Ariadne, please. There are no titles between old friends." She smiled. "And you are my friend, are you not, Amnerion?" For the first time she seemed uncertain and almost afraid.

"I am indeed, Lady," he hastened to reassure her. "But some things are best discussed in private." He motioned to one of his men to take his place, then drew Ariadne down a secluded alcove and into one of the guard chambers where they could talk undisturbed. "Now, tell me what has happened to you these past five years. Why have you returned now?"

"Because the time of my exile has ended. You must understand, my leaving was not by my choice. I was given a Vision by the Mother, a Vision of death and darkness that showed my beloved betrayed by his own countrymen if he returned with me by his side. The Fates had decreed he must win his place as king alone without my help. They had set Their hand upon him. Had I gone against them, I would have lost all. So I left, and Hermes, Master of Shadows, hid me until you had gone." Her emerald eyes blazed, shadowed by grief. "Had there been another way . . .but there was not. I did as the gods commanded, as I have always done. But this time neither gods nor Fates shall part us. This time we shall be together, as we were meant to be." She declared softly. "Where is Theseus, Amnerion? I must see him. I have much explaining to do."

"Ariadne . . ."

"Oh, I know he is angry with me. How could he not be? In his eyes, I betrayed him. But he must hear my reasons for doing so. And there is . . .another matter I must discuss. Perhaps it is not too late . . ."

"I'm afraid it is."

She felt a chill run up her spine. "Why? What do you mean?"

Amnerion hesitated, running his fingers through his black hair. He badly wanted to pace to relieve some of the tension that was coiled in a knot at the pit of his stomach, but he forced himself to remain in the chair. "I have no gift for words, Lady, I am a soldier first and foremost. So I will say it straight out. The banquet tomorrow is being held to celebrate the honor of the king's betrothal to the Princess of Knossos, your sister, Phaedra."

At his words, Ariadne felt her heart suddenly freeze and turn to ice, though deep within smoldered a white-hot fire more terrible than any she had ever felt before. "Tell me everything, Amnerion. Leave nothing out," she ordered, her tone soft with icy fury.

Amnerion flinched and inwardly cursed his king for this unholy alliance. Then he did as Ariadne commanded. When he had done, she rose from the chair and said softly, "Where is he?"

* * * * * *

Amnerion led her down a short corridor to the king's private chambers. He saluted the two guards on duty, and instructed them to let Ariadne pass. They did so without comment, though one raised an eyebrow. Amnerion bowed to her and whispered, "I wish you luck, my Lady."

She gave him an ironic grin. "You do better to wish _him_ luck. He'll need it." Then, her head up and shoulders squared as if for battle, she turned the handle of the door and strode into the room.

At the sound of the door opening, Theseus looked up, one hand tightening over the peace knot in his dagger, wondering who dared to come unannounced into his private apartments. One glance at the emerald-eyed vision held him spellbound. Words bubbled to his lips, but all died before they ever reached his tongue. Indeed, the only coherent thought in his head was the fact that in five years she had grown even more beautiful, if possible.

[KMF1] Then he was there before her, and there was no time left to flee, to escape the web that Fates had woven for both of them. She looked at him, and it was as if she was seeing him for the first time all over again. His lean muscles, tautened and bronzed by bull-leaping and war, his flaxen hair tumbled and curled by the wind, the strong hands that were so gentle and yet so hard and his eyes—the blue of the Aegean sea—that blazed shock and fury at her.

His anger did not surprise her, nor was she afraid of it, having weathered that storm before and being armored with her own fury. But angry as she was, Ariadne could not help remembering the way his arms had felt, the touch of his hand on hers, the softness of his lips against her skin. Despite his betrayal, she knew that she still wanted him, that her love had not faded, even now.

"Ariadne," he said. Then, as if he could not believe what he saw, he repeated it. "Ariadne."

"So, you remember me still. How gratifying," she said, her voice soft as the serpent before it strikes.

"Damn you!" Theseus snarled, and before she could react he pulled her to him. Their mouths met in a clash of wills, rough with passion and anger. For a moment she resisted, but he was insistent and at last she gave in to the fire and the hunger. His kiss was fierce at first, she knew he sought to punish her for her absence, but it gentled and became teasing, until she felt near to exploding with pleasure. Then she remembered Phaedra, and all the pleasure he had kindled turned to ashes. Had _she_ felt so, in his arms? Did he make her want to beg for his touch, to ache for it like a dying man for water? "No." She said against his mouth. And again, more forcefully, _"No._"

Ariadne's hands clutched at his, and shoved against his chest. "Let go of me, you Athenian barbarian!" she cried, in her anger repeating the very words she had said when he had dared to kiss her so long ago, when she was still a maid and sworn to the Maiden Aspect of the Mother.

His eyes kindled; he set his hands on her shoulders and shook her. "Barbarian, am I? Lady, you know not the meaning of the word. Were I truly the barbarian you think me, I'd have you beaten for desertion." She stared and said nothing, he meant what he said. "I still may. A good thrashing might well teach you some needed humility."

"Oh?" She lifted her chin, her own anger sparking. "'Tis a lesson I think you need to learn as well, my lord. Or was not one daughter of the House of Minos enough for your vanity?"

"My liaison with Phaedra is none of your concern," he snapped tautly.

"Isn't it, _Your Majesty_?" she flung his title at him as if it were a piece of rotten fruit. "What of the vows you made before the Mother? Did they mean nothing to you?"

"How dare you lecture me? It was you who dishonored your vows, when you left me that day! So do not speak to me of honor, priestess, for you know not the meaning of the word!"

She pulled away from him, fearful of what she might do if she remained in close contact with him. Her Gift often reacted to strong emotion, and there was enough anger in her to slay an elephant should she so choose to unleash it. "You are wrong, Theseus. Will you not at least hear my explanation for that night?"

"Why? What does it matter?" One hand slashed at the air in a gesture of dismissal. "What was between us is finished."

The words should have crushed her, stripped her of her pride and reduced her to tears. But they did not. "No, my lord. We most definitely are not finished. Nor will we ever be." Her voice held a tone of command few had heard and none who had were able to disobey. "And you _will_ hear me out, King of Athens, or are your claims of fairness and justice merely words with no substance behind them, like my brother Minotauros's?"

His eyes blazed azure fire, but he refrained from lifting a hand to her as he longed to do. He had never struck a woman and he would not begin now, no matter how furious he was. "Say what you will, Lady, then leave my presence."

She told him of the Vision, of the Fates' command, leaving nothing out save the knowledge of their child. He listened in stony silence at first, but gradually her sincerity and regret penetrated the ice-cold shell he had built up over the years, and he found himself believing her in spite of himself.

"As soon as my exile ended, I came here, to you," Ariadne concluded. "Only to discover you engaged with my little sister, of all the idiotic things! By the Mother's Eyes, how could you even think of accepting her? She is half your age and cares nothing for anything save herself."

His jaw set stubbornly. "That is none of your concern."

"The hell it isn't! She's my sister and I have final say in who she marries, and I can assure you it will not be you, not so long as the moon hangs in the sky! Surely you cannot love her!"

"No. But then, marriages of state are not usually for love, but for political advantage, wouldn't you agree?"

"To annex my country?" Ariadne said slowly, fury flushing her cheeks a dark red. "Theseus, you go too far!"

"Not by half, my dear. Knossos needs a firm hand at the wheel, lest she founder on the rocks. Phaedra isn't suited for rulership, but I am, and I mean to see that Crete pays Athens back for all those years of slavery in the Bull Court."

"What? You would use my people to satisfy some twisted notion of revenge?" All the blood drained from her face. "Goddess have mercy, what has happened to you? Where is the good and decent man I knew five years ago?"

He gave her a bitter smile. "He died a swift death upon the sand that night. Innocence has never fared well in a war with betrayal."

"Ah, but who has betrayed whom, my lord? _I_ remained true to my vow, no man shared my bed in five years. The same can't be said of you, if the rumors have any truth to them. First an Amazon Queen, now my sister. It seems you did not wait a day before replacing me!"

He was surprised at how much her words hurt, he had thought himself hard beyond measuring after what he had endured. But it seemed that he could never be hard enough where this one was concerned. It stung to think she trusted him so little, that she thought his honor worthless. "Ariadne, by Poseidon's Beard, will you be quiet and listen to me? First, my so-called marriage to Hyppolita was nothing more than a political ceremony to bring the conflict between Pontus and Athens to an end. It was symbolic, nothing more. As for Phaedra, I only just now consented to see her, we have not even settled on terms for the contract."

"Good. Then there will be nothing for you to undo."

"And if I say I don't wish to undo it?"

"Then you are a fool!" Ariadne swore, rising to her feet. "And a hypocritical bastard as well."

"Watch your tone, woman. I am King of Athens, not one of your tame Temple guardsmen," Theseus declared warningly.

"And _I_ am Queen of Knossos, of equal rank, and I will say what I please, for it is the truth. Phaedra can only make you miserable, you would know that if you spent any time in her company. But I can see you don't believe me. So go ahead then, seek her out, only don't come crying to me if she breaks your heart." She turned to leave.

"Have no fear, my Lady. She cannot break what has already been broken." Theseus laughed mockingly.

His mocking tone cut her worse than a dozen sword blades, for never before had she known his enmity. But she left the room with her head high, her face a mask of cool unconcern as befitted the Priestess-Queen of Knossos. Inside she was a cauldron of conflicting emotions, anger warring with compassion, hurt with guilt. All of them caused by the infuriating, arrogant man who called himself King of Athens, who had dared steal her heart along with her father's kingdom.

_Had I known he would be thus, I'd have never bothered to come here,_ she thought furiously. Then her innate compassion reasserted itself. _I've never known him like this—so bitter and angry. Not even when he first set foot in Knossos harbor. He has become cynical and hard. Could my leaving have wrought such a drastic change in him? Or was it the wars to win his kingdom back from the Attic chieftains? What has happened to the man I knew in Crete, the dreamer of bright futures? Was this what the Fates intended for us all along? To be parted forever by mistrust and hurt? _ Ariadne shook her head fiercely. No, she would not believe that. She had gone unwillingly into exile, and had returned expecting to find her husband angry, but not unreasonable, and certainly _not _betrothed to her little sister.

Pride and anger kept her back ramrod straight. She marched past the guards, hardly noticing their deferential bows to her, missing completely Amnerion's look of alarm. _By the Mother's Eyes, I'll not let him see what he has wrought, how he made a mockery of the one thing I held sacred. His promise, his love—it was all I had to cling to all those years. Now—_

Childish laughter echoed down the marbled hall, interrupting her angry musing, and Ariadne froze. _Mother of All, no!_ she thought, panicked. The last thing she need now was for Theseus to find out about their child. In his present state, he'd never forgive her for keeping that a secret, especially as he had no legitimate heirs to succeed him. She had planned to tell him eventually, when she was sure he would not reject the child out of anger. But it would seem the Fates had other plans.

A laughing, black-haired whirlwind flung itself at Ariadne's legs, causing her to stumble back against one of the columns. "Look, Mama!" Alethea shouted, waving a small wooden horse adorned with a cunning saddle and bridle in the air. "See what Amnerion gave me! He says I can ride his horse when I'm bigger, but for now I can have this one. When can I have a horse of my own, Mama?"

It was an often asked question, for Alethea was horse-crazy, more so than even Ariadne had been at her age. Ariadne wanted to wince, but forced herself to smile and say cheerfully, "It's a lovely gift, Alethea. And you may have a pony when you are six, little kitten. Then you'll be strong enough to handle him. Did you have fun with Amnerion?"

But Ariadne barely heard her daughter's enthusiastic reply, for a flash of white and gold standing to one side caught her eye. Theseus had followed her from his chambers, intending to apologize for his harsh tone, and he could not have failed to hear the words spoken by Ariadne to her daughter. Shock and longing and sudden anger clouded his aqua eyes, eyes the same exact shade as his daughter's.

"Mother of Us All, Ariadne. She's mine, isn't she?" he demanded softly, coming up to her, his face darkening in anger.

Ariadne forced her gaze upward. "What do you think? You have only to look at her."

The little girl, not understanding her mother's sharp tone, turned around and saw the tall, golden-haired stranger hovering over her mother's shoulder. Without preamble she walked over to him, aqua eyes wide with curiosity. "Hello. My name's Alethea. See my horse?" she eagerly held out the toy for his inspection. Her voice was sweet, the soft trill of a nightingale at dusk.

Theseus swallowed suddenly, his throat gone dry and still. He knelt down and stared into his daughter's eyes, eyes that were so like his own it was as if he looked upon a reflection. "It's a very pretty horse. Would you like to see some real ones?" All anger drained out of him; there was no room for it now when he was so filled with love for the bright little child who gazed at him with such hopeful eagerness.

"Do you have horses? May I ride one, please, sir?"

The longing was plain as sunlight in her face. Theseus smiled. "I do. And you may ride with me if your mother says you may." He turned to Ariadne, lifting one eyebrow. "Well, Ariadne?"

The Priestess-Queen of Knossos felt her knees go weak with relief at his response. He was not going to reject his daughter after all. But then a new fear struck her. What if he wanted to keep her with him in Athens? She had seen the instant love in his eyes when he gazed on the child. She could not bear it if Alethea was taken from her too.

She opened her mouth to refuse, to tell Alethea to go and play, but the words died before they reached her lips. He adored Alethea already, it was plain as day. And Alethea deserved a chance to know her father, even if it were only for a few hours. Slowly she nodded. "Yes, you may take her for a ride. But only about the courtyard, Theseus, please. She's not a good enough rider yet for long trips."

"As you wish, Lady," he inclined his head toward her in a gesture of respect that made her hope he had changed his mind about her. He turned to his daughter. "Well, fledgling, shall we go?" Theseus held out his arms and his daughter walked trustingly into them.

He held his daughter close and looked over the top of her head at Ariadne. Out of the corner of his mouth he asked, "Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

She flushed at the raw pain in his voice. She had expected anger, resentment, not this bone-deep pain. Guilt brought color rushing to her cheeks. "I didn't know it when I left you. If I had, do you think I'd have gone?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "You aren't the woman I thought I knew." His words were soft, matter-of-fact. They could have been discussing the weather. But in his eyes was anger, as rough and wild as the waves crashing against the shore.

Ariadne felt her chin lift in response. How dare he say that? As if she'd left him on a whim, for another lover, like a bored palace woman. "What would you have had me do, Theseus? I was given a Sign. If I stayed it would have meant your death. I had to make a choice." Her hands clenched tightly in the folds of her lavender skirt. "When I realized I was carrying, it was too late to send to you. You were off fighting your wars against those who had betrayed you. If I had told you then, would you have come? Even if you did, what good would it have done to have a pregnant woman at your back? I would have only added to your burden, turned your thoughts to me when they should have been focused on winning back your kingdom. A fatal combination in war, my lord."

"And after?" he asked through gritted teeth. "You might have sent a messenger, a letter, something!"

Ariadne shook her head. "I almost did, when she took sick of a fever. I thought she might die, I was so afraid . . .I wanted you there . . .but it wasn't time yet. You had just won back your throne, you needed time to settle your affairs, make your treaties. If you had come then, it would have meant your throne, for the Attic chieftains would have torn Athens apart once you were no longer there to keep them in their place. And it would have been weeks before you could have returned, she was sick for so long. You wouldn't have left until she was well, I know that much."

Theseus listened, heard the pain and remorse in her voice. He wanted to ignore it, to hold onto his anger, but he could not. Her words made sense, too much sense for him to dismiss them so casually, and moreover she was right. If he had heard from Ariadne anytime during those two years nothing short of death would have kept him from her side. He would have forgotten all else, for she alone had touched his soul and made two hearts into one. He would have been ruled by passion first and foremost and thereby lost all.

Ariadne walked silently beside him, sensing on some deep inner level the struggle within the Athenian king's heart, despite the fact that the bond they had shared once had not been renewed. She was aware of the stares and whispers of several palace servants as they passed, speaking in hushed tones behind their hands and veils. She did not care. Let them say that she had come to bewitch their king, to steal him away from Phaedra.

They were right. She had.

Theseus had pledged himself to her long ago. She had never dreamed he would betray her, forget her love, forsake the vow they had made after Minotauros's death. It seemed incomprehensible.

Yet it had happened.

_How_ had it happened?

She managed to glance at the tall Athenian out of the corner of her eye. Five years had not changed him one bit—physically. He still towered over her, and he was if anything more lean and hard because of the constant wars he'd engaged in. His skin was still a startling shade of bronze contrasted sharply by his bright golden hair.

Ariadne smiled, recalling the first time she'd seen his golden hair, wet with sea spray from his reckless dive into the harbor at Minotauros's urging. She had thought it dyed at first, she who had been among those dark of hair and eye for all of her life. But she had learned later from Daedelus that most Athenians bore such coloring. Gold as wheat, gold as sunlight, soft as silk . . .

Against her will, Ariadne found herself remembering how it felt to run her hands through his hair, how the sun-warmed strands tangled in her fingers, how he had laughed with his head in her lap, azure eyes dancing with amusement tinged with desire.

_Oh, Ariadne, you **are** a fool! He took your body and you gave him your heart and see what has become of it._

He wouldn't trick her like that again. Never again. She had been a naïve innocent young woman, sheltered from the ways of men. She had believed love lasted forever. She was older now. She knew that love was but a trap for unwitting girls, to tempt them to a man's bed and keep them there. Love was but a word men used to seduce a woman, a pretense that was discarded once a man had gotten what he wanted. As she had been discarded.

How many had there been since she had gone? One, two, a dozen? Did he even wait until he was off the ship before taking another to his bed? A crimson tide of jealousy washed over her. She shook her head furiously._ I will **not** let myself be jealous. He isn't worth the effort. Why should I be? I don't love him, not any more. I hate—_

The words froze in her mind. _I don't hate him. But I should. I should. I wish I did. Then maybe this wouldn't hurt so much. Damn you, Theseus, for making me love you. And damn the Fates that made us part._

Ariadne was so intent upon her own inner misery that she almost ran over Theseus as he halted suddenly in front of her. As it was, she barely managed to check herself in time to avoid bumping embarrassingly into his hard-muscled back. They had reached the stables. Alethea shouted and slipped from her father's arms to run ahead, agile and fearless as a wildcat.

Theseus was laughing as he called out, "Wait just a minute, Bright Eyes. You might startle the horses and get stepped on."

Alethea turned at the half-commanding tone, flashing him a look of disbelief and mischievous delight. Then she scampered away, daring anyone in authority to stop her.

"Is she always so wild?" Theseus inquired, grinning.

"Sometimes she's worse," Ariadne admitted ruefully. "She has so much energy and she's not afraid of anything. Animals love her and she loves them. I think she has a Gift for them—she seems to understand them better than anyone I've ever known. She's unusually bright for her age, almost too smart for her own good."

"It doesn't surprise me. As I recall, you—" he broke off with a startled curse and ran forward.

Ariadne caught her breath in horror. Her daughter had walked fearlessly up to a pair of chestnut war-horses tethered to the hitching post, and was calmly seated between one of the huge animals' deadly front hooves, talking to it softly while making her miniature horse leap over the horse's leg. Ariadne breathed a prayer to the Mother that the horse had not yet stirred a hoof.

Theseus had come up to the horse and taken hold of its halter. He then called to Alethea, softly but with an unmistakable note of command. The child glanced up, startled at the stern tone, but obeyed and came out from between the stallion's hooves.

Ariadne raced up, torn between grabbing her child and hugging her and giving her a slap for being so foolhardy. Theseus frowned at her and said, "Haven't you taught her that it's dangerous to be so close to a horse's hooves?" Ariadne did not reply, stung by his accusing tone. But he was no longer paying attention to her, having eyes only for his wayward offspring, who gazed up at him with confused eyes. "You must never, _ever_ do anything like that again, Alethea," he scolded quietly. "The horse could be startled by something and could step on you, even kill you. Do you understand?"

"But he'd never hurt me," the child protested softly. "He's my friend."

The utter conviction in her voice startled the Athenian. But he was not going to be deterred from his lesson by it, no matter how surprised he was to find such determination at such a young age. "Of course he is. But he's also bigger and stronger than you. That is why you must be careful with him, Bright Eyes. He could hurt you without meaning it, and he'd be sorry afterward, but it wouldn't matter if your head were broken or your leg. Now, will you promise me never to go near his hooves unless I or another adult is with you?"

She nodded. "All right. I promise. Can we go for a ride now?"

Theseus nodded, sighing softly. He led out Comet, one of his more gentle mounts, and set her on his back. The stallion twitched not a hoof, which surprised the king, for Comet was not usually so accepting of a stranger on his back. Theseus mounted behind her and they began to trot around the yard. He kept one arm about the child even though he could tell she possessed excellent balance and was not going to fall off. She was a natural horsewoman, he thought with pride.

Ariadne watched as the man and the child cantered about the yard. Alethea's black hair blew about her like a raven's wing and her face was alive with the thrill of riding a fast horse. Ariadne wished that she could have taken her prize stallion Arion with her into exile, but such had not been possible then. Perhaps now, though, she could send for him, and she and Alethea could ride him over the green valleys, swifter than the wind itself.

The thought made her smile, but only for a moment. For much as she did not wish to think of it, she was but a guest here in Athens and an unlooked for and unwelcome one at that. All that she had was due to his sufferance and hospitality, a fact which made her grit her teeth for she was not used to answering to a man of power, anymore then she had been as a young woman. But she should not be made to feel so resentful, would not have had it not been for his stubborn pride and his incomprehensible desire to ally himself with Crete through marriage to her sister.

Phaedra. Ariadne had often wondered how her little sister had turned out, wondered if she had changed much since her willful childhood, if she were well and content with being titular heir to Crete, at last having the power she so longed for. Is she beautiful, my sister? Is that why Theseus feels compelled to offer for her? She recalled suddenly a day long ago, when a twelve-year-old princess had rushed gaily into the temple storeroom to babble about a gorgeous Athenian barbarian who walked like a panther, batting her eyes and near to swooning with puppy-love. _Any woman would be glad to bed him._

_Including yourself, little sister._ Ariadne thought tartly. Phaedra had made no secret of her longing for the Athenian prince, then or now. Except now she was in a position to get what she wanted. Or so she thought. But Phaedra never thought to contend with Ariadne. For this would be one battle Ariadne was determined to win. _We were meant for each other, he and I. And I will let neither Fates nor mortals come between us again._

**_So how did you like their reactions? Thanks to SapphireWarrioress and Pandora for consistently reviewing this one, I really appreciate it!_**

**_Next: Theseus must decide where his heart lies and with whom--Ariadne or Phaedra?_**

* * *


	18. Chapter 17

THESEUS PAUSED FOR A moment, drinking in the cool breeze off the ocean, content just to stand and gaze out at the shifting blue-green waters that lapped restlessly at his bare feet. The sun was just rising and it promised to be a beautiful day. A fine day for a betrothal banquet, he thought with a grimace. Sighing, he banished the grim thought, for just now he wanted to be at peace, content, an emotion so rare that he could not remember the last time he had felt it. He also could not remember a time when he had been alone since he had become king, solitude had suddenly become more precious to him than all the gold in Crete. It was why he had chosen to be up before the dawn, that he might have time to walk along the shore and reflect, for his thoughts these days were in a worse knot than a tangled skein of thread.

A cold nose thrust abruptly into his hand, startling him so he jumped. Argo eyed him reproachfully from large amber eyes and whuffed at him. "Followed me, did you?" his master laughed, ruffling the fleethound's silky ears. The faithful hound was growing old now and more wont to lie by the fire than hunt all day in the hills, but he could still outhunt the best dog in the royal kennels and even his pups could not match him. The dog also possessed an uncanny way of knowing when Theseus was sad or depressed and would leave off whatever he'd been doing to find and comfort his master. Like now.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it? A fine day to go and hunt deer in the hills." Argo's tail smote his leg wildly at the word 'hunt' and he danced eagerly on his hind legs. Laughing, the king pushed him over on the ground. "Reprobate. If it were up to you, I'd spend every waking hour hunting and let Athens fall into the sea." He bent to scratch the old dog's stomach and Argo sighed in blissful contentment.

"If only it were that simple," Theseus said softly, half to himself and half to the hound, who listened with one ear cocked. "When I was a boy, I longed for adventure for an end to the dreary day to day tasks of a nobleman's son. Now I'd give my crown to have it all back. I suppose that's always the way of things, though. To never appreciate what you have until you haven't got it."

He rose to his feet, his gaze on the sea. Argo lay silently by his feet, a worried expression in his farseeing eyes, had Theseus glanced down to see it. "As I did not appreciate Ariadne till I lost her," he muttered. "And now she has returned . . .with my child no less! What am I to do, Argo? Once I would never have had to ask that. I would have married her without thought. Even now I almost . . ." the king flung his hair out of his eyes and began to pace agitatedly.

"Damn her! Why now, why not before, when I hadn't tied myself to Phaedra with that betrothal agreement? Which is not an easy thing for me to break. Poseidon's Beard! Sometimes I wish I could just run off to the hills and live like a hermit, it'd be a damn sight easier."

Argo snorted and Theseus looked at him, and it seemed the hound reproached him silently. "I sound like a perfect idiot, don't I? Lucky there's only you to hear me. I am king of Athens, and I must play the cards the Fates have dealt." He smiled ruefully and Argo grinned up at him, the grin of a friend that said _whatever you decide, I'll stand by you. _"Loyal hound." Theseus whispered and knelt down to gather the dog to him and hug him.

When he had first returned home to mourning and black veils, Argo had been the first to greet him, springing up to plant muddy paws on his shoulders and lick the tears from his face. Since then the hound had been closer than his shadow, as if afraid to let his master out of his sight. "What would you do, Argo?" The hound whined softly, his long tongue licking the king's cheek. "One way or another I must choose, and soon, for Phaedra isn't likely to give me any peace until I do." Argo growled softly at the mention of Phaedra, whom he disliked intensely, for she had him banished from the hall when she was there, for she did not hold with animals mingling with people, especially not dirty, long-legged beasts with eyes like saucers. The hound had taken immediate exception to the Cretan princess's shrill voice and long skirts that swished across the floor like a thousand long-tailed cats. He had tried to rid himself of them by ripping them, but that had only earned him a scolding and a cuff from the king, who had then sent his favorite hound from the hall over Phaedra's hysterical wails. Theseus had longed to cuff Phaedra in truth, for her carrying on was more like a five-year-olds than a grown woman and Argo had been his friend since boyhood. But he had restrained himself.

He wondered idly if that would still be the case once Phaedra learned of Ariadne's return. One thing he knew for certain. Phaedra's reaction would be like setting fire to a roomful of oil, explosive, fiery, and unforgettable.

* * * * * *

Phaedra's eyes darkened to pools of shadow as she listened in shock to the tale her maidservant Thione related to her. She listened, almost in a daze, for her worst nightmare had come to pass. Her elder sister, infuriating, arrogant, much despised Ariadne, had returned to claim what she had given away five years ago. Her throne and, more importantly, her prince. Except he was no longer a prince but a king, the most powerful king in all of Greece.

The thought made the young woman long to shatter the priceless vase on her dresser into a thousand pieces, to shred and tear the pillows until the air rained with feathers. But she controlled the impulse by the slimmest of margins; it felt as if she harnessed a volcano with her teeth. She was the Princess of Knossos and a princess did not let her temper rule her.

She was no longer a reckless, heedless child. Now she must plan, for she would not let this setback stop her. She would have Theseus, as she had sworn years ago in the moonlit courtyard of the Mother's temple. Ariadne could have Knossos and all the dreary responsibility that went with it. She would be content with being _his_ queen. It was only fair. Her sister had given him up for her Goddess. Now it was Phaedra's turn.

She moved to the window, peering out into the small courtyard. By now the entire palace was buzzing with gossip. She smiled, cat-like, and brushed a strand of golden-brown hair from her face. Let them wonder. She would give them something to remember—something they would never forget. She was not Meliantha's star pupil for nothing.

Sudden laughter drifted up from the courtyard, a man's deep baritone joined with a woman's light soprano and a child's treble. Two figures walked down the flagstone path from the stables, joined by a smaller one who flitted about them like a mischievous butterfly. From her vantage point, Phaedra could make out that the man bore golden hair and the woman ebony—an unusual color for the light-haired Athenians. Reality struck with the sharp claws of a hunting cat, tearing relentlessly into her daydreams. She shut her eyes as if by doing so she could deny what she saw.

But it was no use. The sight of them together remained imprinted on her memory, etched in fire. For the two below had been none other than Theseus and Ariadne.

They had been laughing.

_Even now she reaches out to take what is mine!_

Seething, Phaedra whirled about, her face contorting into a mask of terrible bestiality. Seeing it, her maidservant turned and fled as if the Furies themselves harried her steps with their bronze whips. _The little bitch! How dare she?_ Her temper ignited like dry tinder lit by a stroke of skyfire. Her eyes lit upon a porcelain statue.

The statue shattered satisfyingly against the wall, followed by a vase. Amid the sounds of broken glass a shrill voice could be heard using language that would have made a seasoned sailor blush.

To hell with decorum.

* * * * * *

The wind tickled lightly about Ariadne's feet as she strolled barefoot through the well-tended gardens, not minding the chill of the marble walkway beneath her feet. Not that she kept to the walkway, occasionally straying off it to cup a flower in her hand or study a bush, examining the unfamiliar ones with a scholar's intense desire to learn. The night was still save for the faint cry of a night bird and the soft chirps of crickets. Stars arced across the sky in a sparkling wave, making her smile at their unearthly brilliance. She exhaled softly, content to simply to feel the earth beneath her, around her, calming her spirit as always.

Today had been a day of surprises, she mused. A feast had been held in the great hall, but her sister had not attended, which made half the population of Athens wonder why she was absent. Her maid had said it was due to a stomach ailment, but Ariadne suspected it had more to do with her sudden appearance than any illness. It made Ariadne uneasy, for Phaedra had never been the kind to accept defeat meekly. And defeat it was, for Theseus had put the betrothal on hold indefinitely. Couched in polite terms it meant he was considering breaking it. Though she knew it was unfair, Ariadne could not help but gloat a little. It proved that Theseus was not as infatuated as he seemed. Which meant she still had a chance. What would tomorrow bring?

She continued walking around the slight bend in the path, unconcerned that she wore a gown stained with grass and earth or that the wind played merry havoc with her black tresses. She was not overly concerned with appearances, never had been. She had learned long ago to look beneath the outward appearance of a person or thing and see to the spirit within. Often what was lovely on the outside was foul within and vice versa. Mostly though the inner spirit mirrored the outer, neither one nor the other. At least with people. Animals tended to be more straightforward. Perhaps that was why her daughter bonded so deeply with them.

Ariadne smiled gently. The child had been so excited after her ride with Theseus that she could not stop chattering about it. Then she asked when she could go for another one. If Ariadne had let her, Alethea would have been perfectly content to sleep in the stall with Comet, whom the girl declared her very best friend. Getting her daughter to bed proved more difficult than usual, but at last the inquisitive eyes had closed and the little body surrendered to sleep. After making certain the child was well and truly sleeping, Ariadne had kissed her cheek and wandered out into the gardens that bordered their rooms, filled with a strange restlessness that only the night would ease.

The sharp tang of the sea drifted to her nostrils, mixed with the perfume of wildflowers. The scent brought her back to her childhood, to the days when she had roamed the beaches of Crete with only herself and Arion for companions, as free as a wild thing. Before the gods had seen fit to meddle in her life. Before an Athenian with sea-colored eyes had stolen her heart.

A twig snapped behind her. The sound was as loud as glass shattering to her sensitive ears. She spun around, her green eyes wide as a stalked doe's. To come face to face with a tall woman dressed in a gown of gold material shot through with silver, her hair piled atop her head like a crown.

It was a moment before Ariadne realized whom she faced. "Phaedra!"

"So you remember me. How gratifying." Phaedra said, her mouth curving in a lazy smile, one that held no warmth to it.

Ariadne winced at the tone, sensing the enmity beneath the other's cool façade. "Of course I remember you. I could never forget my little sister. You've grown some since I last saw you. You remind me of our mother."

Phaedra shrugged. "I wouldn't know." Her hands clenched into fists and she glared at her sister with a look of such fury that Ariadne backed away from her two steps. "What are you doing here, Ariadne? Why don't you go back to your little island and stay there? You don't belong here. You never did."

Ariadne felt her own face go hot. "Who are you to tell me where I can and cannot go? You forget, _little_ sister, I am still Queen of Knossos. I go where I will, as my destiny leads me."

"Destiny!" Phaedra laughed mockingly. "A weak excuse, typical of a priestess. I suppose you're going to tell me it was destiny that caused you to come here now—just in time to ruin my engagement. Hecate take you, Ariadne! You will not have him. Not this time! He is mine now, as he was meant to be."

"Now who speaks of destiny?" Ariadne said softly. "But you are wrong, Phaedra. He never belonged to you. Or me. He belongs to himself first and foremost. And he must choose."

"Must he? And if he chooses me? Because he might, you know. I didn't abandon him like you did. I didn't leave him to play goddess on a barbarian island for five years. I waited for him. And he came to me."

"For an alliance. Not love."

Phaedra's eyes glittered with menace. "It doesn't matter. I will _make _him love me. You're just jealous that he wants me more than you."

Ariadne shook her head. "Don't be such a child, Phaedra. He's not a toy, but a man. A man with thoughts and feelings of his own. You can't make someone love you. Don't you know that? You can take his body, but a man's heart is his own, to give where he chooses. And he has given his to me."

Rage flashed across her sister's face, and she sprang at Ariadne, fingers clawing, to maim and kill. Ariadne was not caught unaware, having felt her sister's precarious emotional state moments before. She stepped aside, moving swifter than a shadow, her hands closing on Phaedra's wrists with unrelenting force. Brought up short by the sudden pressure, Phaedra gasped, trying to free herself, snarling like a mad beast. But Ariadne held her firmly, her fingers clamped like steel bands about the pressure points in Phaedra's slim wrists, rendering the other helpless. "Phaedra! Get hold of yourself!" she ordered sharply.

Her sister spat a word Ariadne had heard only twice before from a sailor. But she did stop struggling. She knew she was no match for Ariadne in a physical contest. "Let go of me, damn you! If not for you, you interfering harpy, Theseus would be mine. A man's heart! Ha! Men don't think with their hearts, elder sister, but with what's between their legs. Don't you know that?" her tone was a perfect mimicry of Ariadne's a few moments before. "That's why they need women to do their thinking for them. As it should be. Men are only good for two things. Lovemaking and war."

Ariadne shot her sister a look of disgust. "Now you sound like Meliantha. Was that what she taught you, how to look upon men as pets and toys, to be used for pleasure and then thrown away when you were finished? Fool! Daedelus has more of a mind than you'll ever have, and he didn't get that way by sleeping with half the women in the palace. Do you think Theseus will come tamely to your bed and go where you bid him like a whipped hound?" She saw the answer in her sister's eyes and laughed aloud. "Oh, Phaedra, you don't know Theseus at all if you think that. Desire alone will not bind him to you. He is a stallion, as wild and untamed as the sea. And he bends to no will but his own." She stepped back, releasing Phaedra's wrists with a snap.

Her sister glared at her, seething. "So _you_ say. Just because you tried and failed does not mean I will." She spun on her heel, her spine rigid with anger. "Best pack your belongings and your brat and return to Naxos, dear sister. For this is one contest I mean to win!"

Ariadne watched her go, the tranquility of the garden ruined. Her sister had grown up, indeed, she thought bitterly, recalling the little girl with the sunny smile playing with her cosmetics. Grown up jaded and selfish, the very thing Ariadne had hoped she could avert by raising her within the confines of the Temple. It had not worked. Her little sister was as willful as ever, and hell-bent on getting whatever she wanted, no matter the cost. _She does not even love him, she only obsesses over him. She only wants him because I do, she sees him as a prize not a man._ Ariadne could only hope Theseus realized that, and chose wisely. For choose he must. And soon, for she could not bear this much longer. _Is this how it will always be, striving for something that will be forever beyond my reach? Like a child longing to touch the moon, knowing it will sail cool and distant in the heavens for eternity. Is that what was meant by service, Mother, the day I swore my oaths to you? I was pledged to be your champion, your defender of the faith, your Hand and your Eyes. I have kept my oath, defended you against my own bloodkin with power and flesh. Your temple stands still, despite those who sought to desecrate it. Your Chosen dwell still in the Holy Precincts, your people still worship you as they have done since the Founding. It is as it always has been._

Her hand came up almost automatically, making the sign of the circle and sheaf in the air. A slight green sparkle followed the tracing. The Goddess had heard her Chosen daughter. Slowly, Ariadne brought her hand down, it curled into a fist of resentment and anger. _It is the same, save for one thing. I am not there, because I was sent away, exiled in spirit if not in truth. And for what, Mother? So that the gods in their infinite wisdom could test the depth of mortal love, of devotion, of the strength of the mortal heart? Have we not been tested enough, we two? It is no game, not to me. This is my life. And his too. I have served you well, Mother. This once I would ask for something in return. Give him back to me. Or I shall take him back, the gods will it or no._

She cast that thought, seething with repressed desire and longing, shouted with all the defiance and fury kept contained for five years, into the teeth of heaven. It was heard. She waited, trembling a little at her temerity, for a reply. But the sky did not grow dark, nor did thunder boom in silent manifestation of the Goddess's disapproval. The sky remained calm, unruffled by breeze or cloud. She waited, eyes lifted to the sky for an answer that did not come. That was in itself an answer. Her destiny was now in her own hands, to do with as she chose. The Mother would not interfere again. _So be it._ The Priestess-Queen dipped her head in a gesture of respect and acknowledgment. On silent feet, Ariadne returned to her room, there to toss and turn till the dawn.


	19. Chapter 18

THESEUS RETURNED FROM A long exhausting council session spent debating over grazing rights between neighboring tribes with a raging headache. There had been times during that session where he had longed to throw up his hands and shout, "Go ahead, kill yourselves over a few hectares of land, fight until there is no one left to claim it. Only then will you see your own stupidity, when it is too late." He did not, of course. The past five years had tempered his tongue, if not his temper. They had taught him the restraint and patience of the diplomat. He did not allow emotion to rule him, not in the council hall, at least. As a ruler, he must be impartial. That was a tenet he had absorbed long ago as immutable fact. So he clenched his teeth and bit back the sharp words, which would have alienated the tribal leaders, and earned him their enmity, and he reviewed the evidence with a dispassionate, logical air of the best Greek scholar philosopher. Then he made his judgement, to give each tribe the land for one year, so that both would benefit from the lush grass. And the following year the practice would continue, each tribe holding the coveted pasture for the length of a year and no longer. There were some mutters and grumblings, as always, but in the end they bowed to his will. They had, after all gotten what they desired, without bloodshed. Theseus wished his own problems might be solved so neatly.

_And what would you do, have Ariadne live in one palace and Phaedra another, and travel between them, like the barbarians of the east do in their harems? Poseidon's Holy Trident! Nothing is ever easy. _His sandals echoed hollowly on the blue tinged marble tiles as he made his way through the corridors, not even pausing to admire the beauty of the setting sun, melting rose and gold into the glassy sea. He was deaf to the siren call of that magnificent view for once. He headed immediately to his chambers, not even bothering to wave a greeting to Amnerion, who was stationed beside his door.

Amnerion, noting the tension in the king's eyes, cast him a sympathetic glance. "Rough day, Your Majesty?"

Theseus managed a weary nod. "All I want now is a bath, food, and sleep, in that order."

"I'll send Clarissa up with hot water immediately." Amnerion said, signaling one of his messenger boys. The boy left at a dead run.

Theseus turned, one hand on the door handle. "Oh, and Amnerion? See that I'm not disturbed for anything short of an invasion or a fiery mountain falling on the city."

"As you will, my king," the guard captain answered, saluting smartly. "Sleep well."

The king of Athens slipped inside his chambers, closing the door firmly behind him. Hopefully now he could get some much needed sleep, and perhaps a bath and some food would rid him of the headache that pulsed incessantly behind his eyelids. He quickly shed his heavy robes of state, dropping them on a chair in his sitting room. He only wore them to council sessions and was always glad to remove them. Next he tugged off sandals and swordbelt, hanging the latter carefully on the wall, where he could reach it if need be. Heaving a sigh, he padded into the bedroom, where a fire snapped cheerily on the hearth, warding the early spring chill from the air. _Maybe I ought to take a nap before Clarissa fills the bath. Gods know I –-_

His thoughts scattered to the four winds at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Phaedra lounged at ease among the heavy blue woolen comforters and pillows, her lush honey hair tumbling down from her shoulders like a golden river. She wore nothing else beneath it save a gold chain set with a ruby, the symbol of her rank. Her eyes were at half mast, lidded and sultry, brimming with desire and mystery. Her pouty lips curved into a welcoming smile. "Hello, Theseus." She purred, stretching lightly, for all the world like a cat begging to be petted.

He found his voice at last. "Phaedra! What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." She wriggled slightly on the comforter, a sinuous movement that made his mouth go dry.

For a moment he did not reply, for it was obvious why she was here. He frowned, annoyed now that she had managed to slip past his guards. Such a thing should not have been possible. "How did you get in here?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "I have my ways. Your windows are not that difficult to climb." She rose to her feet, lithe as a cat. His eyes were drawn in spite of himself to her breasts, no larger than those of a child, and yet so lushly tempting. He bit off a curse and turned away, fighting to control his unwelcome response to her. It had been a long time since he had been intimate with a woman, a fact which his body reminded him in no uncertain terms. He gritted his teeth, for Phaedra was a beautiful woman, and he would have to have been dead not to react to her sleek body, curved in a way to entice a man to lose all thoughts save one.

"Theseus," she spoke his name softly, a lover's caress. "Come, lay down. You are tired, I can see it in your eyes." She came up behind him, her hands running teasingly over his back. "So tense. I can make it go away. All of it." Her hands sought his tunic clasp. Before he could prevent it, she had unfastened it. The tunic slipped to the floor in a whisper of silk.

She laughed softly, a temptress's chuckle, full of promise. "Come, my lord. We have all night to play. Shall I show you what I've learned?" Her hands wound around his neck and she began to kiss him, nibbling softly on his neck, her eyes shining with desire. Involuntarily he clasped her to him. It would be easy, so easy, to lose himself in her warmth, her willingness. His mouth met hers, demanding and hard, a warrior's kiss, full of steel and moonlight. She did not shrink from him, but met his fervor with a hungry hiss, wrapping herself about him like a snake, matching his desire with her own.

He had no idea where it might have ended, for a knock on the door brought him back to himself. He started, as if waking from a dream, recalling abruptly where he was and whom he was with. He shoved Phaedra away, hissing, "Put some clothes on, woman!"

She stared at him, wide-eyed with hurt. "Why? Are you ashamed of me? Am I so unlovely to look upon?"

Theseus cast her a look of fury. "Here. Put this on." He flung her his tunic. Then he turned and strode to the door, pulling on his robe as he did so. "Come in."

Clarissa entered, holding several buckets of steaming water, followed by two boys carrying a bronze bathtub. "Set it there." He indicated the hearth. "Thank you. You may go."

"Your food'll be up shortly, Your Majesty," Clarissa said with a wink. "I'll bring enough for two." Then she curtsied and left.

Theseus bit back a curse at the maid's keen eyes. By the afternoon the whole palace would know of Phaedra's visit, and come to the obvious conclusion.

"Oh, good, a bath. Just what we needed." Phaedra exclaimed.

"We?" Theseus arched an eyebrow at her. "I don't think so."

"Why ever not? A bath can be most . . . invigorating." At his stony silence, she pouted. "You Athenians are so stiff it's a wonder you don't freeze that way. Now Cretan men know how to have fun." She tossed her glossy mane behind her shoulders.

"Is that all this is to you, Phaedra? A game?"

The sharp tone should have warned her, but she was confident he was merely gruff out of embarrassment, not wanting to admit that a woman might know more of the arts of love than a man. No matter. She knew how to get around his touchy Athenian pride. She moved toward him, hands reaching. "All life is a game, beloved. And love is the greatest game of all."

But the Athenian was not amused. He saw now what he had missed before. Her coming here was a carefully calculated ploy. One designed to end with him in her bed. And once there he knew she would contrive to keep him so, by binding him in marriage. He caught her hands in a grip that was no longer playful. "Phaedra, enough." His voice was harsh, iron to her velvet.

"My lord?" She made as if to kiss him.

"Stop." His aquamarine eyes glittered with icy fury. "It won't work, Phaedra. You're not the first one to try it. Cleverer women than you have tried to seduce me and failed."

"You don't understand."

"Don't I? It seems very simple to me. If I take you to bed, then you can claim I compromised you. To save your reputation and my own, I'll have to marry you. Then you'll have what you always craved. Power."

"So what?" she snarled. "Is that not what every man wants? What _you_ want? You hands are as soiled as mine by power, king of Athens, so don't sneer at me with your noble intentions."

"I have never sought power for my own sake. It is a responsibility I was given and that I have worked hard to keep. Unlike you, who seeks only after your own pleasure," he declared softly. "I give my heart to no one, Phaedra. You should know that by now."

"That's a lie! You gave it quick enough to Ariadne. A few kisses, a few promises, and she had you eating out of her hand. Did she share your bed that first night in Crete or did you make her wait until after the funeral, my lord?"

Theseus glared at her, aquamarine eyes blazing. His hands clenched together and only his iron will kept him from reaching out and strangling her. "Shut your filthy mouth, Phaedra! What was between me and Ariadne is something you will never understand, not if you live to be two hundred. She sought to free, not to trap."

"Am I so much less than her, Theseus?" Phaedra snapped. "Am I not beautiful? Your eyes tell me I am. Am I not desirable? Your body tells me beyond doubt that I am. What then do I lack?"

"You seek to possess, not to love," he told her bluntly. "I don't love you, Phaedra. I sought your hand for an alliance only. I apologize if you read more into it than that. Yes, you are a beautiful woman. If _that_ was all I desired, I would take you now, as you wish. But you would not be content to leave it at that. You want more than I can give. To anyone."

His words burned into her with the force of a brand. She knew that he spoke the truth. Not all of her carefully honed arts would be enough to change his mind. _You can take his body, but a man's heart is his own, to give as he chooses._

"Damn you, you frigid Athenian bastard!" she howled, channeling all of her thwarted sexual energy into a burst of rage. Her hand drew back to slap the conceited look from his face.

But she had not reckoned with Theseus's temper. He caught her hand in a grip of iron, wrenching it to her side. She gasped in agony. "I'm not one of your Cretan lapdogs, little princess, to bully whenever you wish. Strike me at your own peril."

"Beast! I am a Princess of Knossos, not one of your whimpering Athenian milkmaids."

He released her arm. "Then act like one, instead of a two-bit trollop. You shame your House with your wanton behavior."

Her response was a stream of curses that made his eyebrows rise in astonishment. She was inventive, he'd give her that much. But when she began to insult his mother he had enough. In two strides he picked her up, tucked her under an arm and walked to the door, ignoring her shrieks and attempts to scratch him. Then he set her in the chair with a thump, holding her in place effortlessly. "_Enough!_ Poseidon's Beard, woman, but you have the tongue of a harpy. It's a pity your father didn't beat some manners into you long ago." She opened her mouth, but shut it at his furious glare. "Not another word! I'm tempted to give you a thrashing you'll never forget, so I suggest you hold your tongue. Now, here's what you're going to do. You're going to get dressed and leave here, quietly and without a fuss. And you're going to keep silent about what happened here tonight. As far as you're concerned, nothing happened. Nod if you understand me."

Mute and trapped, Phaedra nodded. She longed to spring up and scratch his eyes out, but her bruised wrists left her with a healthy respect for his strength.

"Very good." He stepped back.

Seething, she rose from the chair. She walked around him to a corner of the bedroom closest to the window. There she donned the dress and shoes she had discarded hours before. Head held high, she stalked past him to the door and flung it open. Eyes glittering, she strode into the corridor, ignoring Amnerion and Kerkyon's grins. Behind her she heard Theseus call casually, "Sweet dreams, my lady."

She nearly swallowed her tongue, strangling on the rage she dared not voice. _Oh, you will pay, Athenian barbarian. This I swear by the Mother of Night. No one humiliates a Princess of Knossos and gets away with it. I will make you beg, Theseus of Athens, I'll make you weep. You'll crawl to me before I'm done, by Hades black realm I swear it!_

"Trouble, Your Majesty?" Amnerion asked with a sly grin.

Theseus shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle." He frowned. "I ought to have you beaten for dereliction of duty, Captain. Why aren't there guards stationed outside my window?"

Amnerion flushed at the rebuke. "There are, my lord. I'm not that careless."

"But she . . ." Theseus began, then broke off, swearing softly. "I never should have believed her. She doesn't have the strength to climb up to my window. You let her in, didn't you?"

"I did. She claimed you had summoned her, told her to wait for you. I could hardly refuse the request of the Princess of Knossos, could I?" Amnerion answered, a bit sharply.

"I know. I'm sorry I snapped at you, Amnerion. But she makes me as angry as a dog stung by a wasp nest."

"I can see that." Amnerion said, straight-faced.

Theseus's eyes narrowed. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Of course not, Your Majesty." His friend answered. "I think you handled her quite well. I've never seen a princess kicked out of a bedroom with more efficiency than you just demonstrated. I'll have to admit her again, so I can see exactly how it's done. Don't you agree, Kerkyon?"

"Yes, sir," the other said, grinning openly.

"You do and I'll have your hide for a wall hanging." The king said fiercely. Then he grinned, for it was impossible to stay angry with Amnerion for long. "Next time she comes slinking around here, you have my permission to toss her over your shoulder and escort her back to her rooms. If she gives you any lip, tell her to remember what I promised her if she didn't behave. She'll be quiet then."

Amnerion stared at him. "You're not serious. You want us to—to manhandle a Princess of Knossos?"

"I know it's not protocol or even decent behavior, but I don't want her within a yard of my rooms ever again. Understand?" His tone said the conversation was at an end.

Amnerion was wise enough to nod and leave it at that. But that did not prevent him from wondering what the little harlot had said to his monarch to get Theseus furious enough to issue a command like that. He'd wager his sword that Phaedra had been more surprised than any of them. It made him slightly uneasy, for he knew Phaedra was not one to take insults lightly. "Guard your back, Theseus. You know what they say: a woman scorned thirsts for revenge."

His king smiled coldly. "She'll get more than she bargained for if she tries her tricks again. Good night, Amnerion, Kerkyon. Hypnos guard your dreams."

"And yours, my lord." Amnerion replied, bowing.

Theseus returned to his blessedly empty rooms. His bath water had grown cold. But at least he was alone to enjoy it. And Clarissa would bring him as late a supper as necessary. He frowned and picked up a sponge. So much for an uneventful evening relaxing in his rooms. He wondered idly if somewhere, the gods weren't having a good laugh at his expense. Heaven only

knew but his life had become as complicated as one of the dramas the players put on at feastdays.

* * * * * *

When Phaedra had been dismissed—like a two-bit street brat, she thought furiously—from Theseus's rooms, she had not fled with her tail between her legs like a whipped puppy. She had too much pride and decorum for that. Nor was she chastised and remorseful, as had no doubt been the king's intention. She was throbbing with longing and furious that he had rejected her in such a way that would leave the palace gossips with something to whisper about for a long time.

Reaching her own rooms, she slammed shut the door and ordered all her servants to find other places to sleep for the night. Wary of their mistress's temper, they obeyed without protest. Nearly incoherent with fury, Phaedra swept all the cosmetics off the dresser, listening to them shatter with great satisfaction. Pity she could not shatter _him_ like that. Then a slow, sly grin came over her. _Ah, but I can. For I am not the pampered princess he thinks me. _

She slipped out of her clothes, moving over to a small rosewood chest that she kept locked always. Phaedra wore the only key around her neck. Unlocking the chest she drew forth a black silk robe, draping it about her with careless efficiency. The robe alone was worth her weight in gold, but the cost did not matter. It was what the robe symbolized that did. For only practitioners of Hecate's Dark Mysteries could wear the silken robe. The color proclaimed her to those who knew as a master of the dark magic, the magic of death and darkness. Like her tutor Meliantha, she too was a disciple of Hecate the Dark Goddess, Mistress of Poison and Death.

Her breath coming harsh with anticipation, she peered inside the chest. All manner of tiny earthenware jars and glass urns lay side-by-side, carefully labeled with arcane symbols. Each contained a deadly poison. Phaedra sat back on her heels, one blue-lacquered nail tapping slowly against her chin. It was tempting to use poison; the mere thought of the arrogant Athenian writhing in agony brought a smile to her lips. And some of her most powerful concoctions were colorless and tasteless in wine. Only one thing made her hesitate. Poison could be traced. Especially by one who was Gifted, as was Ariadne. Regretfully, she decided against it. Another time, perhaps.

Her eyes narrowed to slits much like a viper's as she considered another course of action. The man must be taught that she was no palace light skirt to be dismissed so lightly. One did not spurn her advances so cavalierly and get away with it. Then too he had dared to threaten her with bodily harm, as if she were naught but a child! He must be taught a lesson. She had vowed to make him beg, to have him crawl at her feet. For like all men, he had a weakness that was easily exploited. _I will make him weep like a child, and beg my forgiveness. For what man would not beg for the life of his only daughter?_

Humming softly, she rose and lit the incense in front of the rosewood altar with a careless wave of one hand. She lacked Ariadne's more spectacular Gifts, but she could summon fire when she wished it, a fact which she had taken great pains to hide from the priestesses of the Mother. Softly she began to chant a prayer. "Dark Mistress, hear me! And make my words binding unto eternity and beyond!" _You shall regret this night, Theseus. Regret it till the end of time._

* * * * * *

The sun had just sent its first tendrils of light across the sky when Alethea awoke. Tiptoeing across the marble floor, she slipped up to the wide window casement. Beyond she could hear the faint hush of waves on the shore, which glistened like a ribbon of liquid silver. The pre-dawn air was chill, but Alethea did not mind. She enjoyed the feel of the wind on her skin, the way it played through her thick ebony hair. The sun would rise soon. It was time to go down and greet the day.

With the quicksilver grace of a squirrel, the child slipped out the window and down the side of the wall. The climb was not difficult as there were plenty of cracks in the stone for her to set her feet and hands and the window was only twelve feet from the ground. She landed noiselessly as a cat upon the patterned stone walkway. Her eyes lifted to the window, though she knew her mother would not stir till the sun showed his face through the window. Good thing too, she reflected, for Ariadne would surely scold if she had seen what her daughter had just done. _Mother doesn't understand about walls. Climbing is as easy as speaking to animals once you know how. And I've known how since I was three._

The sun continued its ascent and Alethea turned toward the shore, skipping gaily down to the beach with the careless grace of a sprite in a meadow. She halted just where the sea met the shore, laughing a little when the water lapped her bare toes. Lifting both arms above her head in a semi-circle, she cast her gaze heavenward and waited.

At that precise instant the sun emerged from behind the curtain of night, turning the cobalt water to brilliant aquamarine. Blinking at the dazzling display, she whispered, "Fair morning to you, Sun Lord Apollo." Then, as always, she felt the kindly presence of the god shadow her, enfolding her in a mist of golden light. _Welcome, child. The blessings of the sun shine upon you, Alethea._ The words were always the same, but Alethea knew he was aware of her, as he had been since she was old enough to speak. She did not find this strange or frightening, for was not her mother High Priestess of the Earth Mother? Ariadne spoke often with the Goddess, Alethea knew, and so she did not find it uncommon that another immortal might choose to speak with her. It was in her blood after all, her legacy from the House of Knossos.

She supposed her love of the sea had been inherited from her father's side of the family, for Ariadne had told her of her papa's kinship with Poseidon Sea Lord. _At the Sea Lord's command, Papa went to Crete as a bull leaper, to do honor to the god in his temple. And there he met Mama and fell in love and battled the wicked Minotauros for her. _The child thought, spinning the familiar tale into a fantasy in her head. Ariadne had never tried to hide the secret of her birth from her daughter, for Alethea was too curious for standard evasions and would settle for nothing less than the truth. Especially when the truth was almost as good as an epic story. She had known Theseus was her father at first glance; the aquamarine eyes so like her own told the undeniable truth. Moreover, she could feel his love for her radiating through his entire being. She need fear nothing when he was near, he would protect her as he had her mother. She was glad her mother had decided to come here, to the shining walled city by the sea where the dolphins played. Now they would be a real family, and she would no longer have to endure the stares of pity and taunts from the island children because she lacked a father.

Alethea dropped to the sand, trailing one hand idly in the crystal water, and let her mind drift. Suddenly a sharp bark echoed through the air, bringing the girl bolt upright. It was Argo, her father's fleethound, calling her to come and see what he had found.

_Later,_ she sent lazily. It was too comfortable to move.

_Now! Come!_ Argo barked thunderously.

Alethea muttered a word that would have earned her a swat from her mother, and followed the dog's excited thoughts down the beach. "Be quiet, you old fool!" she scolded softly. "D'you want to wake up the whole castle?"

_Look,_ the hound ordered, shoving his nose in the sand.

Alethea peered down. There, between the white dog's paws was a glittering object. Alethea knelt, scraped away the sand. Upon a golden chain was a pendant of turquoise and pearl in the shape of a shell. _Where'd you find this, Argo?_

_Here_. The dog answered, nuzzling her hand. _It smelled funny. It tickled my nose._

Alethea ruffled the hound's ears. "It's a gift. From Lord Poseidon, I think." She lifted it from its sandy bed. Whatever the dog had sensed, it was quiet now. Grinning, the child placed the pendant around her neck. Just for an instant she felt cold, as if an icy wind had touched her. Then she shrugged it off.

"Come on, Argo. Let's hunt."

The fleethound gave a happy whine and trotted away, casting for a scent. _What shall we hunt, mistress? You have no knife._

"That's okay. I'm not hunting animals."

The dog came back to her, his gold eyes on a level with her own. His brow wrinkled in puzzlement. _What, then?_

"I want to find the caves. The ones Aunt Phaedra told me about yesterday." She lowered her voice, speaking in a whisper so faint that only the fleethound could hear. "They're a secret. I can't tell anyone but you. She says a princess lived there ages ago, cause her ship crashed on the rocks. She was there a long time, until a handsome prince found her and took her away to live with him. But she left some of her things behind. I guess there was too much for her to take. So I want to find them and see all the pretty clothes and jewels. Maybe I can even give some of them to Mama. She'd look beautiful in a new gown of moonshine and stardust, don't you think? Want to help?"

Argo yawned. _All right. Where do you think these caves are?_

"Over there," she waved toward the cliffside. "But we got to hurry, Argo. Before Mama wakes up and finds me gone."

The fleethound set off in a groundeating lope and the girl raced after him, laughing eagerly. Neither of them felt the eyes that watched unseen through the aid of the enchanted pendant, placed just where an inquisitive child would find it. Neither knew they walked toward a place of deadly peril, a place that even the most seasoned hunter avoided.

Soon they had traversed the beach and headed up toward the cliffside, where Phaedra had said there were caves. Gravel scraped under her feet, making her wince, but the child continued on doggedly, her natural curiosity urging her on. Argo followed, grumbling, for his paws were meant for running over hills and meadows, not scrabbling up the sides of cliffs. Alethea murmured encouragement and continued to climb.

At last she came to a ledge of rock scoured smooth by wind and waves. It extended all the way around the mountain. Alethea followed it, limping a little on her sore feet. There on the western side of the cliff face, toward the sea, were the caves, or at least one cave. Alethea peered eagerly downward. It was dark down there, but she wasn't frightened. She could light the way with her Gift.

Cupping her hand over the shell, she hummed softly. The shell began to glow softly, illuminating the darkness before her. A tunnel of rough crumbling stone led downward. Eagerly, Alethea stepped forward.

Suddenly the earth that had seemed so firm gave way beneath her. With a shriek she found herself falling. She landed with a thump on rock, scraping her knees raw and knocking the breath from her. Gasping she fought to breathe and maintain the light spell, for she suddenly did not want to be alone in the dark. In the wavering light of the amulet, she could see now that the tunnel was never there, only a shaft that had dropped straight down to this underground cavern. Wincing at her scraped knees, Alethea rose carefully to her feet.

The cavern appeared to be about ten feet in length and no where could she see a glimpse of any treasure. It was all dark gray stone, slick with mold, and somewhere in the corner, something hissed. The child backed up, instinctively seeking a way out. But the opening she'd fallen through was far above her head and the walls were too smooth for her to scale.

A tremor of fear seized her. She had never been trapped, unable to get out of somewhere. Suddenly the rocks seemed to grow to twice their size, closing in on her, pressing on her with the weight of time itself. Shaking with a fear unlike anything she'd ever known, Alethea curled up in a ball, too scared to move. Once again the shadows at the back of the cavern stirred and something dark and sinuous slithered from them.

It was a snake, one of the venomous sea vipers that inhabited the coastline and liked to lair in the damp crevices close to the sea. This one had laid her eggs in the forgotten cavern, recognizing a place undisturbed by man. Until now. The serpent had been awakened from her doze by the child's fall and she was not pleased to find her safe haven invaded.

The serpent moved closer, forked tongue flicking the air. It hissed loudly in fury.

Now Alethea feared almost no creature, for she had the Gift of Animal Speech. Her rapport with things that went upon four feet and flew was legendary. But the one species she had never been able to communicate with were reptiles. Their minds were cold, small things unconcerned with anything save food and sleep and survival. She had never cared, not being particularly interested in having a snake or a lizard for a friend. And while she did not fear them the way most women did, she nevertheless had a healthy respect for them.

She knew without being told that this particular serpent was annoyed at being woken from her nap. And she would take out that annoyance on whatever was closest to hand. Eyes wide, the girl pressed up against the rocks, the serpent's hiss ringing in her ears like a death bell. There was nowhere for her to run.

_Mama! Papa! Help me!_

But the wordless cry went unheard. Despite her mortal terror, Alethea could not reach the minds of those closest to her. Her Gift lay only with animals.

The serpent drew nearer, drinking in the scent of fear and prey like wine.

A savage snarl echoed throughout the cavern. Alethea started, for the sound had come from above her. "Argo!" she cried, sobbing. "Help me!"

The dog never hesitated. In a shower of gravel and dirt, he flung himself into the hole, landing beside his stricken mistress with a thud that bruised every muscle in his aging body. But he shook off the pain. He had heard her psychic cry for help and with the hunter's keen instinct for danger had sought her out. He lowered his head and growled menacingly, moving in front of his mistress, nose wrinkling at the acrid stench of sea viper.

The viper was thrown into a paroxysm of rage at this new invader. Lifting a third of its body from the cavern floor, it struck like a bolt of lightning.

But Argo was prepared. He moved as only a fleethound can, with speed that matched the swiftest deer. The snake's fangs snapped shut a hairsbreadth from his foreleg. Argo snarled, gold eyes blazing with hate, and lunged, seeking to break the serpent's back.

But the great hound, veteran of thousands of hunts, misjudged his quarry, having no experience with a snake's ability to turn and strike with blinding quickness. The hound's teeth found their mark, snapping the hated reptile in two, but not before the dying viper had sank her fangs into the side of his jaw. Sea snake venom was one of the most deadly poisons known to man and it worked with terrible swiftness.

Argo staggered, all the strength fading from his magnificent legs. The snake fell limply from his jaws as he turned blindly toward Alethea. The child reached out, cradling the white hound close, knowing beyond doubt that her beloved friend was mortally wounded. Gasping, the dog put his head in her lap, shuddering uncontrollably. Alethea tightened her grip on him, wordlessly sharing the gallant dog's last moments. Tears fell unheeded on the sleek white coat, tears that the dog tried feebly to lick away. _Argo, I'm sorry_, she sent, consumed with guilt and sorrow.

But Argo could no longer hear her.

Alethea clutched the fleethound to her and wept.

She had no idea how long she remained there in the cold darkness, for her body had long since gone numb with fatigue and terror and grief. Time had no meaning. Suddenly her ears detected the running of many feet, followed by a familiar voice crying, "Theseus! She's here! Down there!"

Dimly she recalled that the voice belonged to her mother, that somehow her parents had found her. But she was cold, so very cold. Just like poor Argo.

"Alethea!" a man's voice, sharp with relief and fear. "Great merciful gods!"

A rope was lowered, a man descended from it. Aquamarine eyes took in the rent serpent, the limp body of the hound and the ghostly pallor of the child with bewildering speed. It was a moment before Theseus could react. Then he reached out and pulled his child into his arms. She lay limply in his arms, her eyes glassy with shock.

"It's all right. You're safe now. I promise." He whispered soothingly, stroking her hair. Swiftly he tied the rope about her waist and his, then he began to climb back up. _Thank all the gods for Ariadne's Gift of Sight. If we hadn't found her now, it would have been too late._

Hands reached down, helping him up the rest of the way. "Theseus! Is she—"

Ariadne's arms came about him. "Let me see her."

He released his hold, laying her down on the ground. Then he turned and began to climb back into the hole. "My lord! What are you doing?" Amnerion demanded.

"I have to go back. Argo's down there," he answered shortly. Then he lowered himself into the hole.

The fleethound lay where he had fallen. The king's gaze sought the serpent, bitten in two by the dog's mighty jaws. Argo had never hesitated, for he had been doing what he had always done, protecting those he loved from harm. The fleethound's heart had known no fear even at the end. Theseus knew before he touched the dog's fur that his gallant hound would never hunt again. He had died as he had lived, with a hunter's courage. Gently, he patted the sleek head. Even in death the amber eyes were serene. Argo had found his peace at last. "Thank you, old friend. You saved her life." Swallowing sharply, he gathered the dog to his chest and began the weary climb to the ledge for the last time.

When Theseus emerged from the cave bearing the body of his favorite hound, no one said a word. Amnerion wrapped the dog in his cloak. Theseus nodded woodenly and made his way to where Ariadne knelt, his daughter in her arms.

The scrapes she had garnered on her legs were gone, healed by her mother's touch. But the scars on her heart would take longer to fade. "She's not hurt, thank the Goddess." Ariadne said softly. "If it hadn't been for Argo—"

"I know." Theseus said hoarsely, his eyes straying to the still form, shrouded in Amnerion's good cloak.

Slender arms wrapped around his neck and his daughter buried her face in his shoulder. "Papa."

"I'm here, Bright Eyes."

"Do you know what Argo told me before he . . . died?" her voice was muffled but still audible.

"What?"

"He told me he loved me."

_Oh, gods._ _My poor Argo._ Memories slashed him like wildfire: Argo running at the head of the pack, leading the hunt with his glorious head held high, Argo lying at the foot of his bed, ever vigilant, Argo listening, head tilted, while Theseus shared his innermost fears and secrets, Argo, his best friend. Suddenly it was too much. Holding his weeping daughter to his chest, Theseus lowered his head and began to cry. _Goodbye, my brave one. I'll always remember you. May the Mother welcome you home._

* * * * * *

Theseus gave Argo a warrior's funeral and not even the most hardened cynic laughed, for all knew the dog had been the king's favorite hound, and all knew the story of the great dog's sacrifice. He lit the torch himself, while Ariadne held his hand, offering him silent comfort. Together they watched the flames shoot skyward, bearing the spirit of their beloved dog to the realm of the gods, where he would hunt forever in the Forest of the Immortals where all things are reborn and nothing ever truly dies.

"I'll miss him," he whispered softly, his voice heavy with sorrow. "He was my first dog, the best of all of them."

"I know." Ariadne drew him close. "I'll miss him too. He saved Alethea's life. I owe him a debt that can never be repaid."

"It doesn't matter. Argo understood. He died like a warrior, the way he wished." Theseus told her. "How is Alethea taking it?"

"She's heartbroken. She blames herself for Argo's death." Ariadne admitted. "Nothing I say seems to help."

"Give her time. She was bonded to him, you know." He sighed, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "What I can't figure out is why she was up on that cliff in the first place. Did she tell you anything?"

"She mentioned something about a lost princess and treasure, but I didn't really understand it, it was all mixed up with her guilt for calling Argo to save her from the serpent."

Theseus was quiet for a moment. At last he said, "I might be able to help her, a little. I was going to introduce her to them yesterday, but I was so busy, I forgot."

"Introduce her to what?" Ariadne was mystified.

"You'll see."

* * * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Theseus walked through the door of his daughter's room. In his arms was a gangly bundle of white fur—a fleethound puppy with amber eyes, three months old. Alethea was sitting at the window, staring out at the waves. For three days she had remained so, hardly eating or sleeping, and speaking to almost no one. Her eyes were dark, brooding pits of despair; she frightened Ariadne, who feared that some vital spark had died along with Argo, that the child had lost the will to live, as sometimes happened with Gifted who bonded too deeply with their companions.

"Alethea. I brought you a surprise."

The girl did not seem to hear him, or if she did, she did not care. She remained turned away, staring out at the waves, still as a porcelain statue.

The puppy wriggled in his arms, wanting to get down and greet this new stranger. Theseus let the little fleethound go. The puppy raced on awkward paws, sniffing and exploring the rug and the bed. Suddenly his head came up, in the manner of a hunting dog that has seen a quarry. His amber eyes gazed directly at the forlorn child. Theseus held his breath, waiting to see what would happen.

The puppy sprang onto the window seat in one bound, landing gracefully next to his daughter. Then he whined low in his throat, asking to be petted. Alethea stubbornly ignored the entreaty. But the puppy refused to give up. He shoved his slender nose beneath her hand and began to lick her arm with his long pink tongue.

Alethea looked down, her aqua eyes filled with tears. "Go away," she whispered, in a voice meant only for the puppy. "You don't want to be my friend. Argo was my friend and now he's dead. I can't have anymore friends." She made as if to push the puppy away.

But the little fleethound was as stubborn as his sire. He stared into her eyes boldly and despite all her efforts to block him out, a little voice whispered, _Not leave. Stay. My friend. Mine. Friend always._

_ No. I can't . . ._

_ Yes. You need me. I need you._ The puppy's thoughts were becoming clearer. _We belong. _

The simple truth in the little dog's statement struck her like an arrow to the heart. For since Argo's death, she had felt herself drift into a cold nothingness, a place where there were no tears and no guilt, no feeling at all. She knew instinctively that if she remained within that coldness for much longer, she would be lost. A moment before she would have preferred it to facing the pain that her friend had died to save her. She recalled Argo as he had been, so full of life and love, a love he had given freely. _You need me._ The puppy was right. There was an empty space in her soul, one that cried out to be filled. But Argo had died for her.

The puppy nuzzled her again. _He hunted true, the Leader of the Pack. Dogs don't mourn forever._ Bright amber eyes stared up at her pleadingly. Again came the irresistible sending. _You need me. I need you. We belong._

Trembling, the child laid one hand on the silky head. At the touch all her resolve melted away and her Gift reasserted itself. Effortlessly she joined her mind to the dog's, bonding in full to her chosen companion. _All right then. We belong together._ The puppy barked once in satisfaction as Alethea put her arms around him and hugged him tight. She knew without being told that this was Argo's son, and in him ran the courage and intelligence that had so marked his sire.

She turned to Theseus, eyes shining. "His name is Pharaoh, and one day he will be the king of dogs." _Like his sire._

Theseus merely smiled, for she spoke with such certainty that he did not doubt her words were true. She was, after all, Ariadne's daughter.

When Ariadne came in later that evening to tuck her daughter into bed, she found the little girl reading aloud from a scroll to her new dog. Pharaoh drowsed at her feet, unimpressed by the lecture on stars and constellations. He was content to simply be beside his new companion, for between a Bonded pair there was no need for mistress and servant, both shared equally.

"Star charts for a dog?" Ariadne raised an eyebrow. "He can't be too interested in that."

"He isn't," Alethea admitted with a smile. "He said, what need does a dog have for stars when he has his nose? I guess he's right."

Ariadne nodded. "He has his own wisdom. Sometimes it's wiser than our own." She leaned over to kiss her daughter goodnight. As she did so, her hand brushed against the seashell pendant Alethea had found on the beach.

At her touch she felt a deadly cold and a sense of maliciousness so strong that she drew back, shivering with loathing. "Alethea, where did you get that necklace?" she asked, striving to keep her voice normal. Every instinct in her was screaming to tear off the hideous thing and throw it in the fire. But she did not wish to frighten her child.

"The seashell? I found it on the beach when I was looking for the treasure caves." Alethea told her. "Actually, Argo found it. Isn't it pretty? It's a gift, from the Sea Lord, I think."

"May I see it?" Ariadne knew at once that it was no gift from Poseidon, not with that black aura surrounding it. Shrugging, Alethea slipped it off her head. The moment it touched the Priestess-Queen's hand, it burned with cold fire, warring with her own magic. She closed her hand firmly about the pendant. "I'm going to borrow this for awhile Bright Eyes, to show your father. I'll give it back tomorrow." Ariadne lied glibly. Once the charm was out of her daughter's possession, she would forget about it, for the spell would be broken.

"Sure," Alethea nodded sleepily.

"Sleep well," her mother said, smoothing her hair. At her touch, she used her Gift to send her daughter to sleep, a deep and healing sleep that would expunge the taint of dark magic from her spirit forever. Her daughter had not carried the pendant for long, so the taint would be easily banished.

Lips compressed, Ariadne walked from the room. One thing was clear in her mind. Whoever had fashioned the pendant had left if on the beach deliberately, knowing Alethea would find it. It had been spelled specifically to entrance a child, to fool the eye into seeing what was not there, and to compel the wearer to search for illusionary treasure. Sudden fury flared in her.

Someone had tried to kill her daughter.

Once inside her own room, she locked the door and placed the charm on her dresser with distaste. _Whoever made this was a disciple of the Dark Goddess, Hecate, Lady of Poison. The taint is unmistakable. _

Eyes blazing, she called upon her Gift. Her hands flared with green fire. Then she brought her hand down with a sharp blow. There was a flare of green fire and a sharp crack then the amulet melted, destroyed by the Mother's holy fire. But it was not enough. The maker of the amulet must be found, for a disciple of Hecate would stop at nothing until the target was dead. Or targets, Ariadne amended. For she had an uneasy feeling this attack had not been aimed at Alethea alone. But who was the disciple and where?_ I will find out, and when I do, the sneaking bastard will wish he had never drawn breath. Or she. _


	20. Chapter 19

ARIADNE'S HANDS WERE STEADY as she placed the silver scrying bowl on her dresser, filled with pure water from a mountain stream. The sparkling water was not a necessity, her teacher Elaisia had always said she could See in a cup of wine when called upon to do so. Still, pure water always gave the clearest visions and Ariadne would leave nothing to chance. Not when her daughter's life, and possibly Theseus's as well, was endangered. With a word, the three beeswax candles lit, their light casting a triangle of flame about the silver bowl. Ariadne bent over the bowl, her breath stirring the crystal water into ripples. "Mother, lend me your eyes."

She breathed upon the bowl a second time, then a third. Then her power gripped her, and the ripples stilled, the water grown mirror bright, blazing with green light. The Priestess-Queen of Knossos's eyes widened as she Saw . . .

_Phaedra, dressed in unrelieved black robes, the Sign of the Serpent curled in a flash of liquid silver at her throat, kneeling beside a chest. She could not see what her sister drew forth, but she clearly heard the words Phaedra spoke, "Dark Mistress, hear me! And make my words binding unto eternity and beyond!" Then Phaedra grinned, a grin that revealed all the hidden malice in her soul, and began the preparations needed to fashion the dark amulet, meant to steal Ariadne's child away forevermore. Ariadne drew a breath to scream, fury coursing through her blood like lightning unleashed . . . _

The Vision faded, the water returning to its normal state. Ariadne breathed out sharply, her breath rasping in her throat. Her hands clenched upon the dresser, leaving crescents in the precious wood. _Mother, help me! A priestess of the Dark Lady in our midst, and I did not know! She has been here all this time, months, and she remained hidden from me. Such a thing should not be possible, and yet . . ._ the proof was undeniably before her eyes. Ariadne felt her face flush hot with shame. That she, High Priestess of the Mother, had missed the signs a novice would have picked up! Had she truly been so distracted by her own personal problems that she had ignored the obvious signs of evil? Or had Phaedra gone so deep into the mysteries of Hecate that she could manage to hide her true nature from even Ariadne's magic?

The High Priestess bit her lip. No, even Phaedra had not that kind of power. She had simply allowed Ariadne to see what Ariadne had always seen, a willful child, spoiled with the promise of power, intent upon having her own way. She had cloaked herself in selfishness and anger, knowing that Ariadne would not bother to probe deeper, uncovering the black evil that lay at her core.

_Even now, my heart seeks to deny the evidence,_ Ariadne thought bitterly. _That my own sister, the child I raised to be a princess, should come to this—the practitioner of blood magic, of poison, of the assassin. How did she learn of it? And why? Perhaps it is not too late, and I can still reclaim her soul, turn it back to the Light._ But even as she thought it, Ariadne knew she was wrong. For those high in Hecate's service bound themselves to their Dark Mistress with rites as lasting as those Ariadne had taken in the Temple of the Mother. And the Dark Lady gifted no one with the secrets of her black arts that had not willingly come to her, pledging their soul in return for power. _Phaedra made her choice long ago, even as I did. _

Ignoring the icy fist of grief that squeezed her heart, Ariadne reached into her satchel for valerian, vervain, belladonna, and laurel. She must set wards about her child and Theseus, wards to protect and shield, for there would be no telling when Phaedra might to choose to strike again. She would not be caught unawares this time. Once that was done, she would turn her hands to exposing the traitor, or rather, having the traitor expose herself; for only through such methods could Ariadne ensure that Phaedra was left defenseless, as it was well known that Hecate abandoned those of her faith who revealed her power to the uninitiated.

A fitting punishment for one who betrayed both her family and the Mother, to be exiled in turn from family and her chosen Goddess, and to live knowing that forevermore, Ariadne thought in satisfaction, and lifted her hands, "Mother, bless and keep those I Name safe . . ."

* * * * * *

"Like this, little one," Amnerion instructed, correcting Alethea's grip on the practice sword. "Now, you parry down and across, this way." He shifted the sword, guiding her hands through the move. "Your turn."

Alethea repeated the move flawlessly. "Good! Now do that until I tell you to stop." Amnerion told her cheerfully.

Alethea sighed. Maybe her idea of learning the sword had not been such a good one. She had not expected it to be so repetitive and so monotonous. And she would not be allowed to learn to attack for many weeks, Amnerion had told her. _But it was because you didn't know how to fight that Argo died, _she reminded herself fiercely. And she would not allow that to happen ever again. Still . . . "Master Amnerion, why must I learn to defend first? Wouldn't it be easier to learn to attack and then defend later?"

"Aye, it would. But think about it. Attacking leaves you open to your enemy's return strike. If you only knew how to attack, when your enemy parried, he'd kill you before you ever knew what hit you." The Captain told her, then he lunged at her with his sword, neatly disarming her and knocking her to the ground in an instant. "Now you're dead, and all your noble blood spilled upon the stones for nothing." He held out a hand, helping her to her feet. "And _that's _ why you learn to parry before you learn to strike."

"Goddess above, Amnerion! You'll give the child nightmares with your talk of blood and death," scolded a contralto voice. "She's not one of your recruits, you know!"

Amnerion turned to face Pyrrha, his second in command, who was frowning at him disapprovingly. "Nonsense, lass. She's my student, and she needs to learn the same things any of my recruits do. Surely you don't suggest I coddle her because she's a princess and a girl?"

"You'd better not," Theseus declared softly. "Our armsmaster at Troizen never gave a copper about my rank, as I well know. Prince or commoner, yer blood's as red as mine, and you'll die as quick with a sword in yer throat."

Amnerion laughed. "By the gods, you sounded just like him. He was a tough old buzzard, was Kronus. I can almost feel the bruises he gave me the last practice bout before I left Troizen."

"You got off easy," Theseus told him. "He beat the spit out of me, and I swear he enjoyed every minute of it."

His Captain shrugged. "What can I say? Your head always was thicker than mine, Your Majesty." Amnerion smirked, ducking the cuff Theseus aimed at his head.

"That isn't the point, my lords," Pyrrha cut in, stepping between the two as if they were adolescents spoiling for a fight. "What I was trying to say is that you might tone down all your graphic explanations a little, Captain. She _is _only five, and I don't think her mother'd take kindly to you if she was woken up because her daughter was dreaming of people hacked to pieces."

Amnerion sighed. "I suppose you have a point, Commander. Lady Ariadne in a temper is worse than a hundred Kronus's, wouldn't you say, my lord?"

"A thousand times worse." Theseus agreed. "And she'd be far easier on you than me, by far."

"As it should be, Your Majesty," Pyrrha added with an impudent grin. "Women are always harder on those they love most, don't you know?"

Theseus raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is _that _why you screamed so much at Amnerion that time he got gored by that wild boar?" the king reminded her with a glint of mischief in his eye.

Pyrrha shut her mouth with a snap, refusing to answer. Then she turned and stalked to the other end of the practice yard, bellowing out instructions at the guards sparring there. Theseus noted in amusement that her face was now as red as her hair. "You know, Amnerion," he remarked slyly to his friend, "it's become remarkably easy to tease her since she fell in love with you."

"What?" Amnerion looked as if Theseus had just stuck the practice sword into his chest. He cast a glance at Alethea, who was practicing her parries, ignoring everything else around her. Lowering his voice, Amnerion repeated, "What did you say? I didn't hear you."

"Yes, you did. I said she loves you."

"Theseus, if this is your idea of a joke . . ." Amnerion growled, reverting to addressing his friend by his name, as he did now only under times of stress.

"It's not. You mean you didn't know?" Theseus gazed searchingly at the warrior's face. "Poseidon's Eyes, but you really didn't know!" He turned away to hide his smile.

"Just how, by the Goddess, was I supposed to know!" Amnerion exploded. "She's my Commander, we share tactics and battle plans, not kisses. She shares the barracks with me, not my bed! She never said anything to me, not once."

"Maybe she felt she didn't need to."

Amnerion opened his mouth to give his monarch a sizzling reply, then shut it. He gazed after Pyrrha speculatively. "It's not that I didn't notice her. She moves like a dancer with a sword, all light and fire. But she never once behaved anything but properly around me. She even started calling me my lord, until I ordered her to stop. Even when we were alone, she treated me like a friend."

Theseus clapped his friend on the shoulder. "She's prickly. And a warrior who's been trained to hide her feelings. But I'm sure you can find a way around the wall to her heart. A good general always knows the best way to penetrate a fortress, don't you agree?"

Amnerion smiled. "Damn right. If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, I have a wall to scale." He walked toward Pyrrha.

Theseus grinned_. It's about time those two got married. They ought to have a family before they turn into steel like their swords. _A small hand crept into his own. "That was clever, Papa." Alethea whispered.

Theseus stared down at his small daughter. "You were _listening_?"

"Not really. I knew Pyrrha loved Amnerion already. They just needed some help."

"I think it's time for you to learn a different parry," he said firmly, steering his too-observant offspring back to her practice. _One that will keep her too busy to pay attention to the feelings of her armsmaster and his commander. _He wondered with a touch of despair if all girl children were born with uncanny perception and wisdom, or was his daughter an exception to the rule? And she was Gifted too! _I pity the poor man who falls in love with her. He'll need the wits of a god to keep up with her._

Later that night, over dinner, shared privately with Theseus, Ariadne remarked, "Amnerion's become very happy of late. Smiling and humming to himself. He practically flies when he walks. I'm glad. He'd become a bit too stern for my taste these past weeks."

"Yes, well he's in love." Theseus informed her casually.

"That explains it then. Has Pyrrha agreed to the match yet, or is he still talking her around?"

"You mean, you _knew_?"

"About Amnerion and Pyrrha? Of course. I've known for years. Ever since Knossos. Why?"

Theseus turned away. _Poseidon help me, it's true! Is nothing sacred anymore? _"Never mind." He began to eat his crab stew.

Ariadne hid a smile.

* * * * * *

Phaedra clenched her fists in rage. Blocked. The wards of her sister, the thrice-cursed Chosen of the Earth Mother, blocked her magic. They showed brilliant green for life and protection to her magical sight, impenetrable by evil influences. Somehow Ariadne had sensed her magic and had managed—Gods curse it!—to shield her lover and their brat from it in time. But as yet, Phaedra was certain she did not know who the wielder of dark magic was. Which gave her time to plan again.

_Perhaps you should just go home, _a soft voice whispered inside her head. _In Knossos you are royalty, given the respect and deference you deserve._ She ignored it. Go home like a craven, whipped cur? To sit beside the throne in Ariadne's shadow forever while she and her king rule together? Never! She would have what she had been born to have, and no mealy mouthed priestess or her barbarian lover would keep her from it. The Summer Solstice was two weeks hence, on the dark of the moon. Her goddess would rise then, in all of her dark majesty. And Phaedra would do her homage, by giving her the lives of Ariadne and Theseus, and the rest of this craven city of Mother-worshipping fools.

Like her half-brother, Minotauros, Phaedra was heir to the fatal flaw of rulers. Pride. Coupled with her need to possess, a selfish and destructive passion that had been Minotauros's undoing, she began her chants to the Dark Lady, never realizing that she had taken that last fatal step from light into all consuming darkness. Like Minotauros before her, she had broken her oaths, sworn on the day of her initiation to the Goddess as a woman, and thus brought down the wrath of the gods upon her head. She did not know it then, but she had already been judged and condemned, for of all sins, the gods punish those of an oathbreaker most swiftly and without redemption.


	21. Chapter 20

DESPITE HER PROFOUND NEED to guard against the dark sorcery of her sister, Ariadne nevertheless found time to write a letter to her faithful regent Daedelus, whom she had shamefully neglected to write to after her exile on Naxos had come to an end. But then, she thought, her mind had been on other things besides her kingdom. Still, she was the ruler of Knossos, and she knew that soon she must return there and resume her duties as Priestess-Queen. But not just yet. Phaedra must be dealt with first, and to that end she set about informing Daedelus of her horrifying discovery.

_Daedelus, Regent and Chief Architect of Knossos:_

_My dear friend, you are probably wondering why you have heard no word from me, despite the fact that my exile was ended four months ago. I am ashamed to admit that my mind and heart were otherwise occupied with matters not concerning rulership of my kingdom. A sad trait in a ruler, no doubt, though one I mean to correct posthaste. Until then, I leave Crete in your most capable hands. I will be forever grateful to you for your wise stewardship of my kingdom, no one could ask for a better regent . . .or a better friend. But now I must tell you of a secret so deep and dark that none but myself knows of it. Phaedra, my little sister, has turned to the Forbidden Arts and become a priestess of Hecate, the Dark Lady. Even now, those words burn my soul, and I want to deny them with all my heart. But I cannot. For the irrefutable proof is before my eyes. How could you not have known, you ask? I can only say that my sister was cleverer than we knew, and we who love her were blind to the darkness within. On the surface she appeared to be nothing more than a pretty spoiled child, too used to getting her own way and in need of firm discipline. That was what she may have been once, but that Phaedra does not exist any more. Now she is a woman, fully grown, with all of an adult's wiles and knowledge. I had thought once that I could prevent this, that by raising her in my temple she would abandon her self-centered ways and become a better, more caring person. I thought I had succeeded that the madness that possessed Minotauros had died with him. I was wrong._

_The madness that ran in Minotauros's veins runs in hers as well, though more insidious and sly that ever it did in his. I have seen in my scrying bowl and held in my hand a cursed charm of dark magic, meant to harm my innocent child, that the woman I once called my sister is now given wholly into Hecate's darkness. She has sold her soul willingly and in the name of her dark mistress may well commit even more atrocities. So, beware Daedelus, for forewarned is forearmed. Trust none of her servants, for they might well be her followers, and watch your back. The servants of the Dark Lady strike swiftly and under cover of night._

_This much I know, she believes herself safe, her dark secret undiscovered. She has two main obsessions, power and Theseus, and to gain those goals, she will attempt anything. It grieves me deeply to say this, for I cannot help but remember the laughing child I held in my arms and taught to ride and dress in seven-tiered skirts. But my Gift has shown me otherwise, that the child is no more, and in her place is a servant of the Dark, my ancient foe, who must be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. May the Goddess help me! I will do what I must, old friend; though my heart breaks because of it. No more innocents must suffer._

_I must act and soon. Be prepared, old friend. May the gods smile upon you._

_Ariadne, Priestess-Queen of Knossos_

After sealing the letter with blue wax and her personal seal, a sheaf of wheat encircled by a crown, Ariadne went personally down to the marketplace where the scribe's offices were and handed the precious document in a case to a young messenger, whom she had first scanned with her Gift to ensure that he was honest and trustworthy. "Deliver this at once to the Regent of Knossos, Daedelus. Place it no hands but his, is that understood?"

"Aye, Your Majesty," the messenger stammered, in awe that a person of her rank would come herself to deliver a message. "It will be in the regent's own hands in three days, you have my word."

"It is of the utmost importance, and I thank you." Ariadne handed him a small pouch of gold.

The messenger's eyes widened at the amount. "But, my Lady this is too much!"

"No. You will have earned twice that if you complete your task, trust me. Now go, and may the blessing of the Mother go with you." At those words, Ariadne used her Gift to place a protective shield about him, one that would ensure he reached his destination unharmed. She was taking no chances. No more innocent lives would be lost to the Dark Lady's lust for blood and death.

The messenger departed, bowing low to her, and left at a dead run for the docks, the scroll tucked safely in his messenger bag. Ariadne watched until he was out of sight then breathed a sigh of relief. No dark sending had followed him.

The Priestess-Queen began to make her way back to the palace, walking slowly through the crowded marketplace, when a young woman approached her. "My Lady, wait!"

Ariadne stopped and turned to face a tall, dark-haired woman in the blue dress of a weaver woman, carrying a basket on her arm. "Yes, Daughter?" she addressed the woman as a priestess attending a suppliant. "What would you have of me?"

"I wish, my Lady, to know the future of my unborn child." The woman said, one hand cupping her barely rounded belly.

Ariadne was surprised at the request, for this was the first such person to ask her for a foretelling since she had come to Athens. At Knossos and Naxos she had heard petitions daily, but here in Athens it seemed people had forgotten she was a priestess and only spoke of how she had returned to claim Theseus for her own. _As if I could claim him, like a stray dog!_ She thought wryly. _I can no more claim him than I can claim the sea._

"Should you not go first to your own priests, Daughter, and ask them?" Ariadne asked softly. "I have heard the priests of Poseidon can foretell in the waves."

"I have, Lady, and the High Priest Acteon himself bade me to ask you. He said the Sea Lord had no answers for me."

"I shall ask the Mother then, but I cannot promise you an answer," Ariadne said, giving the ritual response. The Sight was a mercurial Gift and came and went as it chose.

The woman nodded.

"Give me your hand, Daughter."

The woman did so, and at her touch Ariadne felt the familiar sensation of power flow through her as the Vision trance took her. "Thebe, daughter of Lyseus, you shall bear a fine, healthy son. He will be the delight of your heart and skilled as his father in the leatherworker's art. He will bring honor to your house."

Ariadne blinked sharply, coming out of the trance. "That is all I have been given to see."

"Thank you, my Lady!" the woman cried.

"The blessings of the Mother go with you."

From that day on, as if the coming of the young woman had been a silent signal, more and more Athenians came to her, asking for glimpses of the future. Most of these were women, as Dia was traditionally a goddess of women, but men came also, shyly at first, but bolder when they realized she would neither turn them away or laugh at their questions for a good harvest, a successful hunt, a solution to a difficult decision. At first Ariadne was dismayed at the number of petitioners, numbers that began to grow daily. While she did not mind giving advice, for such was her calling, she nevertheless did not want to intrude on the local priests of Poseidon, whose duty it was to care and nurture the people of Athens. To ward off any hurt feelings, she sent a messenger to the Temple of the Sea Lord, explaining that the people had come to her through their own will and not her own doing, and that she would refer them to the Temple if such was their wish.

The answer she got back was from the High Priest of Poseidon, written in his own hand. _"We are grateful for any assistance you wish to give, Lady. Far from offending, you honor us by tending to our people as if they were your own. The people of Athens are many, and often my brothers and sisters and I are hard put to tend all of them, as we ought to. None of us possess the clarity of Sight and Healing you do, those areas not being high in Poseidon's sphere of influence. Those, as I'm sure you know, are the prime attributes of the Mother, and we would not presume to take offense at your unlooked for charity and kindness. May the Sea Lord's wind blow fair at your back."_

Thus she spent the week waiting for the return of Daedelus response to her letter answering petitions and tending to the sick, much as she had done all her life. A part of her remained ever alert for any sign of dark magic, for Phaedra's betrayal haunted her continuously, but her sister remained elusive and secretive, and worked no more spells. The work left her pleasantly weary, the kind of weariness that comes of doing something difficult but rewarding over and over.

She soon had access to the castle's extensive herb stores and stillroom, where she and her assistants brewed teas and decoctions, salves and syrups and antiseptic washes as needed. Though she had the power to Heal with a touch, she rarely called upon her Gift, for it drained her of strength and vitality at an alarming rate. She healed mostly with herbs, only using her power on those who were desperately ill and in dire pain. All those she healed in that manner came away profoundly changed, for having felt the touch of the Goddess, even for such a brief moment, left a mark upon the one so touched, and they never forgot it.

Most of the people came to her during the day, leaving her nights free to tend to her daughter, who had quickly become the pet of Theseus's private guard and the bane of the stablemaster, whom Alethea regarded as a fool for trying to train animals as if they were too stupid to understand what was wanted of them, and often interfered if she felt he was being too harsh with his charges. Ariadne had patiently tried to explain to her daughter that giving unwanted advice in such a manner was bad manners, but Alethea only answered stubbornly, "But he's _wrong_, Mama, to treat horses and dogs as if they were no better than—than swords and hoes, to obey as if they had no feelings and thoughts of their own, and beat them if they don't understand what he wishes. _I_ can hear them, just as well as I can hear you, and I can speak to them so they understand _why_ I want them to do a thing, and they help me because they _want _to, not because I make them with whips and sticks. Animals aren't meant to serve us, and they aren't stupid, either! They know a lot we don't, and we could learn, if we just listened. I told that idiot stablemaster so, but he only laughed at me and told me to quit bothering the grown-ups and go play with my dolls!" Here Alethea tossed her head scornfully and said in an aggravated tone, "_Dolls!_ I stopped playing with dolls when I was four, and I found I could talk to animals. I know more about animals then _he'll_ ever learn in all his life, the old clodhopper. I hope that Phoenix colt kicks him a good one!"

Here Ariadne had to fight to keep from laughing, for she knew her daughter spoke the truth, but still the child must learn restraint when dealing with the non-Gifted, or else find herself looked upon as a troublemaker and an outcast. "That may well be true, Alethea, but no adult likes to be told what to do by an arrogant child, even if that child happens to be right. You must learn to use your Gift more subtly, speak to the animal he's training, not to him, that way the animal will understand and Master Kleitus will think he's done his job well in training it."

"But wouldn't that be lying, sort of, making him think he's done something he hasn't?"

"No, Alethea. It'd be doing them both a kindness. Let the stablemaster have some pride, after all. It's important to a man."

Alethea looked at her mother thoughtfully from wide aquamarine eyes, then she nodded. "All right. I'll do it your way."

Ariadne silently congratulated herself, for it was not easy dealing with a Gifted child, especially not one so daring and precocious as Alethea, who often acted first and thought later. Ariadne's own Gifts had come later than her daughter's had and she had been reluctant and afraid of them, unlike Alethea, who reveled in them. Ariadne gave thanks to the Goddess that Alethea's Gifts of animal speech and empathy were such that they fostered a need to protect and care for others, by their very nature teaching her to be unselfish and kind. With her heritage, the child could have inherited many other Talents, ones that might have led her to the same failings of pride and arrogance that crippled Phaedra and Minotauros.

In a way, she was grateful for the distractions the people and her daughter offered her, for it kept her from dwelling on the need to act against Phaedra, as she knew she must. Part of her burned with a cold, icy rage at what Phaedra had done and still might do to those Ariadne cared for; yet another part of her was numb with anguish at the thought that she might need to do her sister harm before this was over. Even the knowledge that Phaedra was a servant of her mortal enemy gave her no comfort, and only increased her feeling of guilt. Perhaps if she had paid closer attention, she could have seen this flaw in Phaedra sooner and prevented all of this. Around and around her thoughts circled, like wolves trailing a hapless deer, they gave her no escape. The only time she was free of her endless doubt and sorrow was when she was healing or answering petitions, and so she worked from dawn to dusk.

Her unflagging devotion soon came to the attention of the High Priest, Acteon, and he was pleased to find that Ariadne could care so much for the Athenians. He wondered why it should be so, and sought her out to ask her.

Ariadne had, at that moment, just received Daedelus's letter, and her hands clutched the sealed scroll with shaking fingers. At last she would learn of her old teacher's council, who had always been wise and resourceful, and who might have found a solution to her problem that did not involve death. She reached for her small belt knife to break the seal when a footstep was heard in the doorway.

Sighing, Ariadne set aside the scroll for later, when she could read it in private, without being disturbed by another petitioner. She felt a sudden flash of irritation at the unwanted interruption. _Mother's Grace, can they not figure out their own problems for once?_ To her surprise she saw not another humble petitioner, but a broad shouldered man of middle years wearing a sea-blue robe with gold embroidery at the cuffs and hem. He had a neat gray beard and sharp, piercing blue eyes. About his neck he wore a gold medallion carved with a wave surmounted by a leaping dolphin—the holy symbol of Poseidon Sea Lord.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Lady," said the man, bowing gracefully, not submissively, but out of respect for an equal, as was polite. "I am Acteon, High Priest of Poseidon. I would have introduced myself sooner, but I fear my work has kept me a prisoner until now."

"I understand perfectly, my Lord." Ariadne laughed, liking this man instantly. "Here in Athens you have more people than I and my priestesses in Knossos have had in ten years, and so many of them wish answers to questions right now, that I don't know how you manage to keep up with it all!"

"Most of the time, we can't."Acteon admitted. "That's why I was so grateful when they started bringing some of their questions to you. It cut back tremendously on our workload, and gave us, I must confess, some time to ourselves which we badly needed. Sad to say, there haven't been many young lads who want to become priests any more. Now all they want to do is become warriors and go dashing off to win fame and glory in some battle and come back badly in need of healing or last rites instead." Acteon shook his head in disgust. "I try to tell them so, but do they listen? Of course not."

"Such is the way of the young, to learn wisdom the hard way, if they ever learn it at all."

"You are wise for one so young. Though I shouldn't be surprised, considering you are the Chosen of the Mother. Still, it is rare to find one who has served in so many different places so young. Is it true that you were a priestess of Naxos as well as Crete?"

"Yes, I served in the temple there for five years, as the Mother bade me. Then I came here."

"And how do you find the people of Athens, as compared to those of Knossos and Naxos?"

"I find them much the same, Acteon. No matter if you serve in the High Temple of Knossos or a small shrine on Naxos or here in the palace courtyard, people are people. They all have the same hopes, and fears, and dreams, and wishes whether they are poor or rich or are fishermen in Knossos or weavers in Athens. They might dress differently and think differently and follow different laws and customs but those are only on the surface. In here—" she touched her heart, "where it matters, we are the same. You were wondering how I could care for your people as I do for my own. My answer is that Athenian or Cretan, it makes no difference. The Mother made us all, and as her Chosen I am given to care for all of them. Your people or mine, we are all one."

"Truer words were never spoken, Ariadne. I wish all of my brothers could see as well as you do, it would prevent intolerance and misunderstanding."

"It is easy to see, Acteon, when you have an empath's eyes. Or are willing to look. We have a saying on Knossos, _"The wise man looks twice, the fool not at all"_. Sadly it is easier for men to be fools instead of wise."

"I suppose I ought to be grateful for that. If more men were wise, they'd not need me to answer their questions and I'd be out of work."

Ariadne chuckled. "Have no fear on that account, my friend. The gods made more fools than wise men, I think it amuses them."

"So it does, so it does. We Athenians have a saying, _"The gods watch over little children, fools, and orphans."_ I have found it to be true more than once. But I see you have a letter you're waiting impatiently to read, so I'll not bore you with philosophical discussions, and take my leave. I confess I came here out of curiosity and to bid you welcome to Athens."

Ariadne stared at him, embarrassed to have been read so easily. "Are you sure you're not an empath, Acteon?"

"Positive. Only very keen-eyed and observant. My one advantage over the younger acolytes who think that being a priest of Poseidon makes them all-knowing and somehow better than ordinary people."

"I beg your pardon, then, for I don't find you boring at all, quite the opposite. It's been a long time since I had someone like you to talk to, someone who is not afraid to speak his mind and not in awe of my rank. Not since my old teacher, in fact, whose letter arrived just before you came. I asked him a rather puzzling question and am anxious to see what he replied."

"I'll not keep you further then."Acteon said, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Please, come back any time and we can talk, Acteon."

"I will try and schedule my arrivals in-between letters." He said, grinning. "I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Ariadne."

"And I you, Lord Acteon."

Then the High Priest took his leave and Ariadne could hear his loud bellow outside in the courtyard, bidding all the petitioners to return home, that the Lady would answer no more of their questions today. Smothering a grin, Ariadne reached for the letter, feeling her stomach churn as she did so._ A useful ally, indeed. I must remember to stay on good terms with him, he may help me in the fight against Phaedra._

_To Most Holy Ariadne, Priestess-Queen of Knossos:_

_My dear girl I am delighted to hear from you at last, it has been so long since we corresponded. I must say your handwriting has improved (I can actually read it!) Just a little humor to liven things up. Not that they aren't lively enough already. Here in Knossos things remain pretty much as they always were, save for the fact that the treasury is no longer empty and I've actually managed to install a public works system to maintain the roads, sewers, and aqueducts and in the process granted hundreds of jobs to previously out of work fisherman and herders. A useful thing, wouldn't you say? It was either that or have hundreds of disgruntled people on your hands clamoring for help in feeding their families and threatening to start a riot. I tried explaining this to your sister, but she refuses to listen and insists on treating the common people as if they were no better than slaves._

_I can't say that I'm surprised by your news, I had always thought she was a sneaky, unscrupulous brat, even as a child. (I apologize, but it is the truth.) I tried my best to teach her to govern wisely and well, but your sister was not interested in ruling justly, only in reaping the benefits of power. She is, and always will be, self-centered and power-hungry. Not all of my counseling and sternness could change that about her, so don't blame yourself for the path she chose to walk. With her attitude, I think it was inevitable. Much like Minotauros._

_I thank you for the warning, but I have already taken steps to guard myself. Not for the world would I allow myself to be captured by a servant of the Dark Lady, I know too well what they would do to me. But you, my dear, are closer to danger than I. Always your first concern has been for others: me, Alethea, Theseus, your people. I tell you now, as friend and teacher, look to yourself first. Don't allow compassion to overwhelm your good sense, nor guilt prevent you from doing what must be done. I know you still think of her as your little sister, but know that she does not see you as anything but a rival, one that she must destroy. Whatever good was in her is dead now, lost to the black sorcery. You must act now, and slay the serpent when she still sleeps. Show no mercy, for none will be shown you. May the Mother and the Sea Lord keep you safe._

_Your friend and mentor,_

_Daedelus, Regent and Chief Architect of Knossos_

An icy wind blew through the corridor of her soul, as she reread the final lines of the missive again. _Whatever good was in her is dead now, lost to the black sorcery. Don't allow compassion to overwhelm your good sense . . . Show no mercy, for none will be shown you. _The wordsput the deathblow to her hopes of a peaceful resolution. How well Daedelus knew her! For had she not, in her deepest heart, hoped for a miracle, some way that the battle could be avoided, that she might not have to fight the woman whom she had once loved? She had known even then that it was a false hope. But she could not help herself, anymore than a falcon could help flying. The shadows she had seen hovering about her sister had claimed her completely. There was no hope for redemption.

Anguish tore at her, biting deep, and leaving wounds that would never heal. _Is this to be my fate, forever more? To destroy my family? First Minotauros, now Phaedra. Oh, Minotauros left me no choice, he was a mad thing and no love was lost between us. But Phaedra, she is different! I raised her, I lost my heart to her. Once she loved me, long ago when she was a little girl, loved me and admired me. When did that change, little sister? Was it because of Meliantha, who encouraged Phaedra to notice men and behave as she did, and condemned me because I would not do the same? Or was it simply adolescent jealousy, that Theseus preferred me to her? I had hoped that she would forget, and find someone of her own that she could find happiness with. Instead she chose to wallow in envy and let it eat away at her soul. I was blind to her for so long, but now I see, now when it is too late. I can no longer protect her from herself, deny the truth. Phaedra, daughter of Pasiphae and Minos, she who was once my sister, is dead to me. There is only the priestess of Hecate, the Dark Lady, and we are declared enemies, now and forever more. _"May the Mother bear witness, I declare you outcast and oathbreaker, never to be redeemed save in death."

There, the words were said. The irrevocable words that declared open war between them, not to be ended until one or the other was dead. As soon as she spoke them, she felt the strength of her Goddess rise in her, as the deity heard and sanctioned her oath. _As you have spoken, daughter, so it shall be._

The Mother's tone was as hard and unbending as steel, as the rocks beneath her feet. But was there a touch of pity there as well? In any case, it did not matter. Once spoken, the words could not be unsaid. By her own lips, she had condemned Phaedra to death.

With a sharp cry, Ariadne rose and hurled Daedelus's letter into the fire. It was consumed almost immediately by the hungry flames, dying as the last of her fragile hopes had died. The Priestess-Queen of Knossos stared into the fire, and silent tears welled from her green eyes to drip unseen upon the floor.


	22. Chapter 21

THE FOLLOWING DAY, THESEUS noticed that Ariadne seemed pale and withdrawn, her green eyes dulled as if from fatigue or sorrow, her raven hair hanging listlessly, her mouth ringed with lines that he was certain did not come from laughter. If he did not know better, he would have thought she was in mourning for a loved one. But when he asked her what was wrong, she assured him she was merely tired, and turned away, rebuffing his concern with a coldness he had never known from her. Hurt and a little angry that she could dismiss his concern for her so easily, the king of Athens said sharply, "Well, whatever's bothering you, you'd better be over it by the time Amnerion and Pyrrha's wedding starts, for I'll not have you ruining their day with your gloomy looks."

"I assure you, my lord, this mood will be gone by then. I have no intention of ruining my friends' wedding." Ariadne returned with a flash of her old spirit. She bit back the rest of what she longed to say, reminding herself that he did not, could not, understand the reason for her mourning. _And I dare not tell him, not now. This is between Phaedra and myself, I will not have him involved in my House's troubles again. He will only try and protect me, like any gallant warrior-king, and thus leave himself open to Phaedra's sorcery. No, this is one battle I mean to fight by myself, as is my right. So if he chooses to think it a mere gloomy phase that all women go through, I will let him. It will not be the first time he has misunderstood me, nor the last, I fear._

Once it had not been so, she recalled with a pang of regret. Once he had known her innermost feelings as well as he did his own. The bond they had shared through her Gift granted him that rare insight, bringing a level of trust and understanding to their relationship that few mortals ever experienced. But she had broken that bond when she had left him upon the beach five years past, and she could not bring herself to renew it, not now when their relationship was so uncertain, so beset with calamity. Perhaps later, after Phaedra has been dealt with, she could renew the bond. That is, if Theseus still wished to share her thoughts.

Wincing inwardly at the pain she had caused her beloved, Ariadne resolutely turned her thoughts to the upcoming wedding of Pyrrha and Amnerion, who had declared their intent to marry two days before. Pyrrha's parents had been delighted at the match, for they had long ago given up hope that a man would be willing to marry their unconventional warrior daughter. "For what man would want a wife who could take up a sword and beat him at his own profession?" Pyrrha's mother had often lamented to anyone who would listen. "Pyrrha's never been what you'd call a dutiful daughter, tendin' to the house and her spinning. She's always been willful and wild. She'll never make a man a proper wife, that's sure," her father had remarked. "And I know better than to try and arrange a match for her, like I would a dutiful lass. Any man I asked would take one look at her and run the other way, if she didn't drive him off first with her tongue and her sword."

Both parents had been more than a little dismayed at Pyrrha's decision to serve in Theseus's guard, fearing that now she had destroyed all hope of ever finding a husband. They had never considered that a warrior such as Amnerion might welcome a wife as spirited and brave as he was, one who could understand the warrior's code that he followed like no one else, and who would never weep and mourn when that duty took him from her, for she would be with him always.

The wedding feast was set for a week from now, on the first of May, an auspicious time for that day was known to be especially fertile and sacred to the Mother, patroness of fertility in marriage. Though Ariadne would not officiate at the marriage ceremony, for such was given to the priestesses of Aphrodite, she would still give the blessings of the Mother to the couple, ensuring a fruitful and happy marriage. And as Amnerion had no kin left to welcome his bride into her new home, he had asked Ariadne to stand in the place of his mother, and perform the traditional role of welcoming.

"I would be honored, of course," Ariadne had said. "But don't you think I'm a little young to have a son your age, Amnerion?"

"Ah, but you're the Mother incarnate, according to your people, and a goddess can look any age she wishes, no matter how many sons she has." Amnerion answered with a twinkle in his eyes. "Which is just as well, for I'd far rather have a beautiful lady like you for my mother than a withered old crone."

"Amnerion!" Ariadne reproved softly. "What a terrible thing to say about your mother. I can see the poor woman had her hands full disciplining you."

"I wouldn't know, for she died when I was born," the Captain admitted blithely.

"Well, you'd best behave yourself from now on, my son," Ariadne scolded, wagging a finger at him. "Mind your tongue, else I'll take a switch to you, impudent wretch!"

"Yes, Mother," the tall warrior said, pretending meekness, but with a roguish gleam in his eye.

Ariadne swatted him lightly on the back of the head. "I must remember to pray to the Goddess that she never sends me such a rascal like you for a son."

"She wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I don't know. She has a wicked sense of humor, especially when it comes to her Chosen. She'd probably give me one worse than Alethea, just to see how I'd handle it."

"Quite well, from what I see with Alethea. She's as mischievous as ten monkeys. Secretly, I think you _like_ mischievous little children. They're much more fun than the good kind."

"Amnerion, you are impossible!"

"So Pyrrha tells me. But she loves me anyway." The warrior admitted shamelessly. "Women like her always love the impossible ones. They'd be bored to tears with the other kind."

"I'll have to remember that the next time a girl comes to me wanting advice on the best kind of man to marry." Ariadne laughed. Then she gave Amnerion a speculative look. "Are you sure you don't want to retire from the guard and become a priest? You have the most interesting insights on relationships."

"Lady's Eyes, no thank you! Being a warrior is quite enough for one lifetime." Amnerion said quickly, alarm springing into his eyes.

"Just kidding," Ariadne said with a wicked grin, then burst out laughing at Amnerion's scowl.

Remembering that moment made Ariadne's spirits lift somewhat, for she truly wished the couple a long and rewarding marriage. _May you have the marriage I wished for as a young maid, the one I may never have. No one deserves it more._ There was still much to do to prepare for the event, the hall to be put in order, the wedding chariot for the bride chosen, the cakes and food for the feast to be made, garlands of fresh flowers to be picked and hung over the arches of the palace and great hall to welcome the bride to her new home, along with a thousand other minor details. Theseus's household servants would handle most of the work, but Ariadne nevertheless took it upon herself to supervise the event, for only by watching closely could she prevent some disaster from occurring.

A sixth sense of foreboding told her that Phaedra would make her move at the wedding. Ariadne was not fooled into relaxing her guard at Phaedra's sudden withdrawal, and her apparent acceptance at Theseus's dissolving of the betrothal contract. She knew full well that the spider was the most dangerous when she sat quietly in her web, spinning and plotting revenge. No, Phaedra would choose to strike at the moment when people were most unguarded, filled with wine and reveling in the merrymaking. A wedding was a sacred thing, no one would expect trouble at such an occasion, especially when the personal friends of the king were the ones doing the celebrating. Only a priestess of Hecate would dare disrupt the tranquility of such a moment.

_But I will be waiting for her,_ Ariadne vowed grimly. _And then all shall know her for what she is, and her evil power will be broken. Then I will deal her the just punishment of an oathbreaker and outcast, as is my right as priestess and queen. _

* * * * * *

The evening sun sank into the edge of the boundless ocean, tingeing the aqua waters with rose-gold and outlining the craggy Rock of Athens in a burst of brilliant fire. Theseus blinked sharply at the blinding display, but did not turn away. Even after so many sunsets, their power and majesty never failed to touch him. He lingered awhile by the shore, his golden hair ruffled by the salt-laden breeze, watching the sky turn violet, dappled with streaks of rose, blue, and gold. He tilted his head to one side, eyes closed, and listened to the soft thrum of the waves, letting it fill his being. It was a sound he had heard since he was a baby, rocking gently in his carved cradle of rowan wood, a sound he had heard even in the depths of the Labyrinth, and it never failed to soothe and comfort.

As a child, when he had been angry or upset, he had run down to the shore, where the hissing song of the waves soon soothed away whatever troubled him. It had become his refuge, even now, when the pressures of kingship and the responsibility of his crown weighed too heavily upon his shoulders, here he would be found drawing peace from the ageless waters.

Yet this time even the sea failed to work its magic. Agitation drove him to pace to and fro upon the sand, following a path he had trod many times before, despite the fact that the secretive sea had long ago washed away his footsteps. This time it was not the weight of his crown that drove him here, but something more powerful, more compelling, and more painful.

His heart ached with suppressed longing, a sharp, searing agony that cut through him like a festering wound, unceasing, refusing to be soothed, unable to be ignored. For years he had endured his pain stoically, warrior-silent, burying it beneath the more immediate needs of governing his kingdom, seeing to the well being of his people, refusing to acknowledge it. But now it had awakened, throbbing, as raw and savage as the day he had first felt it.

The morning he had awoken alone upon an empty beach on Naxos, woken to find his beloved gone and the bond between them sundered past all reclaiming.

Anger had enabled him to move beyond the crushing pain of that moment, shielding him from his inner anguish. But now he did not even have anger's comforting flame to draw upon. For how could he be angry at his best friend, the man who had always guarded his back, unwaveringly loyal and true, sharing good times and bad, more like a brother than a friend? How could he resent Amnerion's good fortune at marrying Pyrrha, at finding at last a companion to share the deepest longings of heart and soul?

_Could I truly be that selfish, so petty? Am I jealous of what they share, that they have what I once had long ago?_ He felt his soul wince at the thought, cringe in shame.

He gazed out into the ocean, watching the waves unceasing rise and fall, the froth dancing upon the surface, and wished he could become one with it. But that inner peace eluded him. He sighed softly.

_I don't know._ He admitted silently. _I wish I did. A part of me is happy for them, for such a love is rare and precious, coming but once in a lifetime, if ever._ He knelt abruptly in the sand, cupping some of it in his palm. It lay cool and still in his palm, and he breathed in the salty tang of the sea. _Another part of me watches and longs for that happiness, the joy that is all-consuming as flame and as fleeting as froth upon the waves. The joy I knew once and will never know again. If only . . ._

His hand clenched suddenly, grinding the sand into the tender skin of his palm, abrading it. He welcomed the stinging pain, pain that echoed the unseen pain of his spirit.

_Sea Lord, why can't I forget? The past is the past, let it be over and done with. Why does it still gnaw at me so?_

A wave broke with a loud rumble at his feet, drenching him with its icy spray. He remained where he was, unmindful of the water's chill, for he heard the voice of the Sea Lord in the waves roar.

_Because the past remains unfinished. You cannot reconcile the past until you have reconciled the present, my son._

He waited for the Sea Lord to reveal more, but the voice was silent, gone as swiftly as it had come. Apparently, Theseus thought a bit resentfully, he was supposed to figure this out himself, for the god was not going to reveal any more secrets.

Ariadne.

She was both past and present. The woman he had loved. The woman who had hurt him in the worst way a woman could hurt a man. The woman who had given him up to satisfy the demands of an uncaring destiny. The woman who had returned, bringing with her his child, the living proof of their love, to reclaim what she had given away long ago.

Except his heart was not as it had been. Torn and scarred by resentment and hurt, it did not love the way it once had. There was suspicion where there had been trust, turmoil where there had been peace. He hid now what once he would have shared freely, without thought.

So did she.

The bond had been broken.

But could it be renewed?

Did he dare risk that again?

Even as he thought it, he knew the answer. Yes. A thousand times yes. For he loved her still. And always would.

There lay the source of his anguish. For he did not know if she still loved him. Oh, she had when she first arrived at the palace, like a queen come to reclaim her throne, her love had blazed forth like a bonfire for all to see. But he had smothered it beneath anger and bitterness, cast it aside for the fickle Phaedra, who loved nothing save power. He had been a fool. As the days passed he had seen her become more withdrawn, more reluctant to smile or laugh. Even the crisis with Alethea had drawn them together briefly, then they parted again, strangers once more. It was as if she had stopped caring, as if the vitality had drained out of her.

He could not understand it.

She would not explain it.

_Did I do this to her? Or is it something else? I want to help her, but I can't unless she lets me. Ariadne, why won't you trust me?_

_ And why should she trust you?_ A mocking voice demanded. _Trust a king who betrayed her with her own sister? Who thrust her aside with coldness? Why should she trust you when you don't trust yourself?_

Sudden laughter rang out, golden and joyous, the carefree laughter of a child. An excited stream of puppy barks followed. Theseus turned, saw farther down the beach the small forms of a dark-haired girl and frolicking fleethound puppy.

Alethea and Pharaoh.

_Our legacy. Mine and Argo's. Mine and Ariadne's._

He watched the pair leap and play, tumbling and splashing in the waves, content to simply be together. The two lived in this moment, a moment that began and ended in joy.

The king smiled, a wistful smile, recalling another child and another dog that had romped upon a similar beach, playing tag among the waves.

Unconsciously, his hand reached out to stroke a silky head, fondle soft ears that were no longer there. He glanced down, half-expecting Argo's golden eyes to be staring up at him.

But the fleethound was gone to his rest.

Suppressing a sharp pang of loss, Theseus looked once more at his daughter and her puppy. The smile returned, only this time it was one of understanding and joy.

_It is right that she should have what I had, the love of a gallant dog. And it is right that she should have a love like her mother's and mine._

His indecision vanished. Lifting his hand, he flung the sand into the sea. Then he bathed his sore palm in the cool salty water. This time the sting was not sharp, but the gentle throb of a wound healing.

It was time to let go of the old pain, time to let the wound in his heart close and mend. He loved Ariadne. That was what mattered. The past was written on sand, let it be washed away. _After the wedding is over, I will go to her, tell her what I have always known, and make her share her problems with me. Then and only then can we begin to heal._

_ Trust and love._

_ I had it once, and by all the gods, I shall have it once again._


	23. Chapter 22

THE DAY OF THE wedding dawned fair and clear, a good omen for the wedded couple's new life together. Ariadne rose early, so she could help Pyrrha prepare for her celebration. Since Pyrrha had no sisters to witness her final sacrifice to the Maiden Goddess, Artemis, Ariadne stood in place of them and accompanied the glowing young woman to the temple of the Maiden. There, Pyrrha, flaming hair unbound, in a plain white shift, laid a small bundle upon the wooden altar of the goddess. Inside were two old wooden dolls, a stuffed horse, some faded ribbons, a toy bow and arrows, a bright blue sash that all maidens of Athens wore to symbolize chastity, and a child size cloak.

Pyrrha carefully lit the two tall beeswax tapers to either side of the altar, breathing deeply of their honeyed fragrance. Then she said softly, "Maiden, Huntress, I dedicate these cherished possessions of my childhood to you, in memory of the many carefree days I spent beneath your watchful Eye. I ask that you take them now, to give to another child deserving of them, for this is the day I wed, and I must bid farewell to my childhood and all that has gone before. All honor and reverence to you, Lady Artemis, guardian of my childhood."

Pyrrha knelt at the alter, kissed the sacred wood three times in reverence, then whispered, "Maiden, grant me your blessing, as I go forth in my new life."

"Your blessing is granted, daughter. May you be happy in your choice." Came a soft silvery voice. A priestess of the Maiden came around the side of the altar and raised Pyrrha to her feet. She gave her the ritual kiss on the cheek and smiled. "Walk always in sunlight, child. The Maiden smiles upon you."

"May she smile on you also, Lady." Pyrrha returned the kiss, bowed once to the white robed priestess and turned to go. Ariadne followed silently, acknowledging the priestess's startled gaze with a bow. She knew that the toys Pyrrha had dedicated to the Maiden would be taken by her priestesses and given to the poor and needy children of Athens who could not afford such things. For among the duties of Artemis's Handmaidens was the care of orphans and abandoned children.

Her ritual sacrifices to Artemis complete, Pyrrha and Ariadne returned now to Pyrrha's parents' home, where the rest of the bride's preparations would take place. Pyrrha smiled at Ariadne as they crossed into the small yard that surrounded the front of the tidy little wood and stone cottage. Blue and yellow flowers lined the walkway and garlands of pink and white seafoam hung over the door, marking the house as a bride's residence. Figuratively speaking, of course, for Pyrrha's true residence was the palace barracks, as befitted her rank as second-in-command of Theseus's hearthguard.

Pyrrha grinned at Ariadne, her wide hazel eyes fairly dancing with eagerness. "It's funny, but when I was a child, I dreaded coming home, because I'd be forced to sit and spin and weave the moment I entered the cottage. My mother's a weaver, you see, and she never could understand how her daughter could hate what she loved. But my weaving was always terrible; I had no patience for it. Always I wanted to be up and about, outside running and playing with the boys at warriors and maidens."

"I too. My old nurse, Cleate, used to say a blind beggar could spin a finer thread than I could." Ariadne smiled fondly. "I learned under duress, for I always loved riding more than anything."

Pyrrha laughed. "My mother despaired of my ever marrying. But I did not care. I was all for a warrior's life. I swore that when I returned from the Bull Court, nothing would make me put down my sword again. I haven't been back here since that day, for I knew it hurt my parents to see their only child a soldier." The hazel eyes were suddenly sad.

"Sometimes it is hard for parents to accept their children's decisions as the right ones." Ariadne said, placing a comforting hand on Pyrrha's shoulder. "I'm sure your parents understand that your decision was the right for you, and want only your happiness."

"Aye, they do that." The warrior answered, reverting unconsciously to the accent of her childhood. "Though my mother willna ever understand how her girl can be happy wielding a sword instead of a spindle. Still, they canna deny I've a made a good catch in Amnerion, him bein' a noble, and learned, and devilish handsome besides."

"And he truly loves you."

"With all of his heart and soul. And I him." Pyrrha laughed again. "Come, my sister, let us go in. No doubt my mother's wearin' herself to a sliver wondering what's keepin' us."

They entered the cottage, and were met immediately by Pyrrha's mother, a stout little woman with red hair the same shade as her daughter's, wearing a finely embroidered palla and stolla of a rich cream color. "So there ye be at last!" she exclaimed, reaching out to hug her daughter. "I was beginnin' t'think ye'd forgotten the way."

"Forgot the way to me own home? Not likely."

"Forgive me, Lady, for not greetin' you sooner," Pyrrha's mother said with a touch of awe, bowing almost to the floor. "Welcome ye are to my humble cottage, which has sure'n never known the likes of a highborn lady in it til now."

"Please, I am not a noble here, not on this day. Today I am Pyrrha's foster sister, Ariadne, and as such am grateful to you and yours for your hospitality." Ariadne said, drawing the older woman forward for a kiss on both cheeks, as was the custom among kin in Athens. "There, now we are family! Cleate would be proud of me for remembering that little speech, she labored so hard to teach it to me."

Pyrrha's mother chuckled. "Ah, Lady—I mean Ariadne, I'd be thinkin' here's another such as my Pyrrha, all full of wildness and longin' to be runnin' the hills as soon as ye can."

"You guessed right, for so I was, and am still. But it's not such a bad thing, for it makes for a strong and brave young woman, one that any warrior would be proud to call his own."

"I suppose ye'd be right then, seein' as how ye're a priestess an' all." The older woman nodded. "Come along now, ye're bath's waitin, I've scented the water with rose petals just as me own mother did fer me an' drawn it from the sacred spring. Step lively now, my girl, yer man'll not wait forever!"

She ushered the two women into what Ariadne thought was Pyrrha's old room, where a large copper tub steamed upon the flagstones. Pyrrha entered the bath strewn with rose petals and Ariadne helped her to wash her long thick hair. Then Pyrrha's mother dipped up a copper basin of the sacred spring water (so called because only maidens on the eve of marriage used it, purified by a priestess of Aphrodite) and rinsed her daughter off three times, saying as she did so, "With this water I wash thee of yer childhood. Now ye are a woman." She smiled at her daughter, her eyes misty. "A woman indeed. A beautiful lass ye are, by the Lady's Eyes, and sure yer noble Amnerion will be thankin' the gods he chose ye!"

"Mother!" Pyrrha blushed.

"'Tis but the truth I'm speakin', and well ye know it."

She turned to a small chest of cedar, from which she drew out a fine blue robe the color of the deep blue sea, knotted with a golden cord, and a sheer veil embroidered in gold thread with hundreds of tiny birds and flowers. Lastly there were fine leather sandals and a silver circlet twined with lilies. Ariadne had never seen a bridal gown to match it. It was exquisite. Pyrrha gasped in delight. "Oh, Mother!"

"It is the most magnificent gown I have ever seen," Ariadne said. "Fit for a queen."

The weaver beamed. "Thank ye, my Lady. It took me nigh on three weeks workin' day and night to finish it, but here it 'tis. Never have I woven anything so fine as this, but then a mother only marries her daughter once."

She helped Pyrrha into the soft robe and knotted the cord. Then she began to brush her hair and braid it into a fiery crown. Ariadne hummed and sang the traditional wedding hymns of a new bride, wishing her peace, and long life, and many strong sons. Then they set veil and circlet upon her head and Ariadne stepped back to admire her friend.

"You are absolutely stunning, Pyrrha. Like a queen."

"What nonsense, Ariadne! I'm a warrior, you're the queen!"

"On this day, _you_ are every inch a queen." Ariadne stated firmly. "All you need now is . . . a necklace." With that Ariadne drew out an amber leaf strung upon a golden chain. "This is my bridal gift to you, Pyrrha, an amber necklace blessed by the Mother, to keep you safe from all harm. Wear it with my love."

"I will treasure it always!" Pyrrha took the necklace and slipped it reverently around her neck. Then she hugged Ariadne. "Thank you, my sister."

Ariadne hugged her back, a wave of relief flowing over her. Though Pyrrha did not know it, the necklace was a powerful magical item, spelled to protect the wearer from any poison or magic worked by a priestess of Hecate.

"Come along then, my girl, yer father's waitin' t' see ye."

She led them back into the kitchen, where a tall man with dark hair and eyes was sitting dressed in a wine colored tunic embroidered with dolphins and a matching red cloak, woven no doubt, by his talented wife. The man's hands were callused and rough from a lifetime spent wielding swords and fish nets, but he still bore a handsome face despite the scar that arced above his right eyebrow, legacy of a bandit's lucky thrust. When he saw Pyrrha, his eyes widened and he said, "Sure an' yer a sight for sore eyes, lass! Come and give yer old father a hug."

He swept Pyrrha into a bone-crushing embrace until her mother scolded, "Argus, mind ye don't crumple her gown!"

With that he released his daughter and hugged Ariadne, lifting the slight Priestess-Queen from her feet in his exuberance. "An' who's this fine lass, Pyrrha girl?" he roared.

"That's Ariadne of the House of Minos, Priestess-Queen of Knossos, Papa." Pyrrha said with a smirk.

Her father released Ariadne with a look of horror, murmuring, "Why did ye no tell me?" He then bowed to her and would have gone down on one knee but Ariadne quickly grasped his hand. "'Tis powerful sorry I am, Yer Majesty, for treatin' ye so, but never did I think I'd be host royalty."

"Please, don't say that! You and your wife had made me feel more welcome here than ever I did in the king's own palace." Ariadne reassured him. "Today I have no rank save that of the bride's sister, and glad I am of it. Truth be told, I've not been given a hug like that since Daedelus, my old tutor, bid me farewell from Knossos. I've missed it."

"Ye have?" Argus stared at her.

"I have," she answered and returned the hug. "Pyrrha is lucky to have such fine parents to give her away. I lost both of mine years ago, and I've forgotten what it means to have family around me."

"Both, ye say? Have ye no brothers or sisters then?"

"Both my brothers are dead too. And my sister and I are no longer close."

"Tis a sad and lonely thing, lass, for ye to have no kinfolk." Pyrrha's mother said. "We'd be honored if ye'd consider us yer foster parents."

"And I would be honored to have you." Ariadne said, smiling. "And now I must bid you goodbye, for I promised Amnerion I'd stand in place of his mother, as he has none. I will see you all soon."

"Mother and sister now, is it? Must be a rare strange day fer ye, no?" Argus remarked, amazed.

"Well, it's not everyday that my two best friends get married," Ariadne told him, then with a last wave, was out the cottage door.

She walked slowly back to the palace, in no real hurry, for the wedding procession would not begin until evening, as tradition demanded. Ariadne was quite touched by the genuine warmth and kindness of Pyrrha's family; it had been so long since she had known such from any save Daedelus. Never her own parents, who had always been distant figureheads, more monarchs than parents. She had not realized how much she had missed until now.

Upon reaching the palace, Ariadne went directly to Amnerion's suite adjacent to the barracks. As Captain of the hearthguard he had his own private quarters, though he was more often to be found with his men than inside them.

She knocked twice upon the door, and a rather harried looking page opened it. "Come in, my Lady. He's been asking for you."

He led her through a rather Spartan dining area to a simply furnished bedroom. Amnerion paced up and down the narrow confines, rather like a caged leopard. He was freshly bathed and his hair still curled wetly about his head, restrained only by a simple circlet of purple-dyed laurel leaves.

"Ariadne, there you are!" he exclaimed. "How is Pyrrha?"

"Quite well, and that's all I'm going to say for now. You'll see for yourself soon enough in the procession."

"I can hardly wait," the warrior said eagerly. "Do I look all right? Theseus helped me choose these clothes from his ceremonial wear, a guard captain doesn't have much in the way of fancy tunics and such," he explained half-apologetically.

Ariadne studied him closely, hands on her hips. Amnerion was dressed in a long ruby tunic that came to mid-calf, embroidered with gold lions at the throat and hem. It was pinned at the shoulder with a gold lion brooch. His well-muscled arms were bare save for heavy gold bracers at each wrist. About his waist was a gold-linked belt with a small dagger sheathed in it. A flowing mantle of gold hung from his shoulders, nearly touching the tops of his fine kidskin sandals. Upon his right hand he bore the crest of his House, an opal with a leaping leopard engraved on it.

"Well, do I pass muster?" the warrior inquired, quirking one eyebrow.

"You'll do, all right. Theseus chose well, those colors match your hair and eyes to perfection. Pyrrha's going to take one look at you and fall over."

"Pyrrha?" Amnerion snorted. "She's no lovesick shepherdess, to swoon at the sight of a soldier. Besides, she's seen me everyday for the past five years, and I look the same as I always did."

"Not quite, my friend. Seeing you in armor upon the practice field and seeing you in a king's royal garments are two different things. Trust me on that. You're going to have half the female population of Athens gnashing their teeth that they didn't get to you first. Pyrrha's not going to believe her eyes." Ariadne told him gleefully. "For that matter, just wait till you see her. Your eyes are going to come right out of your head."

"I'll say," the little page snickered. "This'll be the first time he's ever seen her in a dress."

"Mind your tongue, Errion!" Amnerion mock-scolded, aiming a gentle cuff at the grinning imp's head. "That's your new mistress you're speaking of."

"Aw, I was only teasing, Captain Amnerion." The lad said, trying to look contrite. "But we all know Commander Pyrrha prefers tunics to dresses. I guess it don't matter, she looks pretty in armor, better than lots of those fancy noblewomen do in their gowns."

Amnerion and Ariadne looked at each other, trying to keep from laughing. It was impossible. The two laughed until their sides hurt, much to the puzzlement of Errion, who stared at them as if they had both gone mad. Amnerion took one look at him and laughed even harder.

"What? What'd I say?" Errion demanded.

At last Amnerion managed to get breath enough to speak. "If I were you, lad, I'd not repeat what you just said to Pyrrha. She might, uh, take it the wrong way."

"Why?"

"Never mind, lad." Amnerion ruffled his sandy hair. "I'll explain it to you when you're older. Now, shouldn't you be taking a bath about now?"

"Do I have to, sir?"

"You do if you want to march in the processional. It's standard marching orders for all the guards."

The boy groaned. "Captain's orders?"

"Captain's orders. So hop to it, lad."

"Yes, sir." Errion snapped to attention, saluted, and left the room at top speed.

"You handled that very well." The priestess told him. "I've never seen a boy go willingly to a bath he didn't want."

"Errion's a good lad. He doesn't disobey very often, not like Theseus and I used to."

"A pair of devils, were you?"

"And then some. With my luck, I'll get children just like I was, and before I know it I'll wear out my sword arm disciplining the hellions."

"Surely they won't be that bad. Not with you and Pyrrha for parents."

"I pray not, Ariadne. But if the Mother has a sense of humor, as you say, my children will be the Trickster God personified."

Ariadne laughed merrily. "Only time will tell, Amnerion." She straightened his tunic. "First we must see you married, then we'll worry about the children."

"As you say, my Lady." He sighed suddenly. "Just what in the name of Olympus am I going to do from now until sunset? I can't practice with my men, I'll ruin these fancy clothes. Can't ride or hunt either. I'm not used to all this standing around dressed like a peacock. Got any suggestions?"

"Play chess."

* * * * * *

At the precise hour of sunset, Amnerion left to fetch his new bride. As custom dictated, he would go to Pyrrha's house to call upon her, or rather her father, and ask permission to marry her. In their case, permission was a foregone conclusion, but for most of the marriages arranged by the nobles this was a serious bit of business, for the permission involved also included bargaining for the girl's dowry. It was also in many cases the first time the prospective bride had ever laid eyes upon her husband-to-be.

Amnerion was accompanied by what seemed half of his hearthguard and the common soldiers as well as several musicians playing flutes and lyres. They would accompany the groom to the bride's house, forming the core of the wedding processional that would march the newlyweds back to the palace, since the palace was where Amnerion made his home. A finely carved two wheeled chaise drawn by chestnut mares also accompanied them, as this was the conveyance the bride and groom would ride in to their new home. Both chaise and horses were festooned with garlands of forget-me-nots and purple hibiscus flowers.

Ariadne stood upon the steps leading into the great hall, waving to the crowd of merrymaking well wishers as they departed. Errion grinned impudently at her as he passed, waving a stick twined with ribbons. Ariadne saw that he had indeed taken the proscribed bath, for both hair and face were freshly scrubbed.

She watched with a smile as the noisy crowd departed down the street, singing wedding hymns as well as other bawdier tavern songs, at the top of their lungs. She smoothed the skirts of her lavender dress and settled down to wait. Her duty as Amnerion's "mother" would be to welcome the bride to her new home and family, thus she would be the first person the new couple saw, awaiting them at the door of their new home, a blazing torch lit with an ember from the hearthfire in her hand. She held the unlit torch in her hand, a page fidgeted to her left, awaiting the first sounds of the processional returning up the street. Once the sounds were heard, she would bid the page go fetch an ember from the hearth to light the torch.

Within the great hall she could hear sounds of tables being pulled into place and kitchen boys and servers bustling about ensuring all the settings were in place for the feast. She heard Alethea's high-pitched giggle, followed by Theseus's soft command, "Sit still, will you, Bright Eyes?" Torches flamed in their sconces, lighting the hall till it was nearly as bright as day. The fire roared huge and magnificent on the hearth, symbol of a prosperous household. Fresh rushes scented with rosemary and mint had been strewn about this afternoon, and the walls had been decked with more flower garlands and the tables trimmed with green linen table clothes.

Above her head, a large garland of olive and laurel leaves waved gaily, the traditional garland of a house of newlyweds. Ariadne tilted her head, her ears catching the first faint strains of a lyre playing a wedding march. The processional was returning. Quickly, she signaled the page to light the torch.

The boy returned with the brand just as the first torches of the processional could be seen, bobbing in the dusk like fireflies. The torches, carried by half the well wishers, symbolized the ritual passage from a solitary old life to a shared new life. Ariadne held her own torch high, so that its flame was clearly visible down the street.

Now the first of the processional was coming into view, singing loudly, laughing and joking, passing skins of wine back and forth, waving their torches. Each member of the processional was dressed in his or her best tunic or gown and wearing a small wreath of flowers on their heads. In their hands each bore a small gift for the newly wedded couple. The sweet notes of the flute and lyre spiraled up to hang in the night air like a benediction.

Softly, Ariadne began to sing, the words to the hymn coming easily, despite the fact that she had never sung them before, only memorized them as part of her requirements as priestess.

_"Blessed Mother, hear us now,_

_Welcome your son and daughter_

_As they come together to_

_Declare their love and fidelity._

_Give them the blessing of your heart._

_That their love may endure._

_Give them the blessing of your hand,_

_That their union bear many children._

_Give them the blessing of your eye,_

_That their eyes see only joy in each other._

_And lastly, give them the blessing of your spirit,_

_That they may know understanding and compassion,_

_Each to the other, for all of their days._

_Rejoice, for the Mother's light surrounds thee!_

_Rejoice, for now ye are one!"_

She felt the gentle presence of the Goddess fill her, shadow her with the unearthly green glow of life and light, and she became in that instant more than mortal, she became the eternal Mother, bearer of life and peace, and her eyes sparkled with silver fire.

Now over the noise of the singing, frolicking people could be heard the steady clip clop of horses hooves, and the chariot drew into sight, the horses held steady by Amnerion's expert hand on the reins. They snorted and tossed their heads, made uneasy by the presence of so many boisterous people and the presence of fire, but they went onward gamely. Directly behind the chariot was Pyrrha's mother, her own torch burning spectacularly, lit from her own hearth, symbolically protecting her daughter as she moved from one stage of her life to the other.

By now the processional had reached the steps and halted, forming a line to either side of the wedding chariot, torches held aloft. By tradition, the bride and groom would be the first to set foot in the feasting hall. Amnerion handed the reins of the chariot to a waiting groom then sprang down, holding out a hand to Pyrrha to help her down.

Pyrrha flashed him a grin that seemed to sparkle in the night like a thousand stars, and then she was standing beside him, her hair seemingly on fire from the light cast by the torches. Together they mounted the steps where Ariadne stood.

Their eyes widened as they realized for the first time that she was glowing with the incandescent radiance of the Mother. This was the first time either had seen the Goddess manifest in her this way, and awe and reverence shone in their eyes.

Then Amnerion was bowing to her. "Holy Mother, will you welcome my new bride to her home?"

Ariadne held out her hands to Pyrrha. "My son has chosen well this night. Welcome, my daughter, may your life be filled with peace and love." Then she embraced her new 'daughter', kissing her on the cheek. Then she clasped Amnerion and Pyrrha's hands and cried, "Blessed be your new life together!" The Power surged from her in a wave, and the onlookers gasped as the couple were surrounded by green light, the physical manifestation of the Mother's approval.

Then Ariadne stood aside, and gestured for Amnerion and Pyrrha to precede her. "Enter, and rejoice for you have reached your true home."

There was a great cheer from the guests in the great hall as the bride and groom entered. Only then did Ariadne follow, and after her the members of the processional.

Amnerion led Pyrrha to the hearth, the center of their new home, amid a shower of fruit and nuts thrown by friends and family. There he halted, and taking a glimmering gold ring from his hand, the signet of his House, he knelt at her feet.

"Pyrrha, daughter of Argus, with this ring I pledge to honor and cherish you, protecting you from all harm, for all of eternity. This I, Amnerion of House Atreides, do swear by the Mother, my Name, and my House. Will you accept my oath, Lady?"

"I will, my Lord, and gladly." Pyrrha answered, her eyes glistening with tears. Amnerion slid the ring onto her finger and rose. "If you will accept my pledge in return," she continued, taking a silver ring from her hand and kneeling at his feet.

"Amnerion, son of Theilon, of the noble line of Atreides, with this ring I pledge to honor and cherish you, protecting you from all harm, for all eternity. This I, Pyrrha daughter of Argus, do swear by the Mother, my Name, and my House. Will you accept my oath, Lord?"

"I will, my Lady, and gladly." Amnerion answered in a ringing affirmative. She slid the ring on his hand.

For long moments they remained unmoving, staring into each other's eyes. Then Theseus yelled, "Kiss her, Amnerion, unless you've forgotten how!"

At that the captain lifted his wife in his arms and kissed her with a passion that set hearts racing all about the hall.

When they at last parted, it was to accept the wedding cake filled with sesame, honey, and dates from the red-robed priestess of Aphrodite. "Beautiful Aphrodite, Goddess of Passion and Love, invites you to sup from her table. Eat of this cake and know the passion of the marriage, holy and blessed, for all your lives. The blessing of Aphrodite be upon you!"

She broke the cake in two, handing one half to Amnerion and the other to Pyrrha. They ate the cake in quick mouthfuls. Then the priestess declared, "By pledge and ring, and the breaking of bread, I now declare you one, bound forever, in the sight of the gods, now and forever more! Go forth and celebrate, my children!"

Cheers erupted all around the room as Amnerion kissed Pyrrha yet again. Then Theseus and a giggling Alethea escorted the bride and groom to the place of honor at the high table, where they were seated at his right hand. Then, at a prearranged signal, the food was brought in. Ariadne, seated at Theseus's left hand, had not seen such a banquet since her childhood, when Minos had ruled with a lavish and free hand. There were huge platters of honey-glazed ham, beef with garlic and mushrooms, lamb encrusted with sage, roasted grouse and duck stuffed with figs, venison and boar. There were lobster, crab, scallops, clams and mussels simmered in butter and white wine. There were several types of fish in delicate sauces. There were olives and grape leaves stuffed with rice, asparagus and carrots, green beans with almonds, tomato and sausage pastries, fresh endive and feta cheese salad. Wine, beer, and honey mead flowed freely.

Everyone ate until they were stuffed, the food was superb. Then came the dessert, fresh pomegranates, strawberries, figs, and melon drizzled with honey, delicate pastries filled with nuts, honey and figs, peaches stewed in red wine, sugar-coated apples, fresh apple and blueberry pies, and tiny cakes of spiced gingerbread with icing. Mulled cider and hot mulled wine were served.

Theseus picked up his wineglass and stood. "Here's a toast to Amnerion and Pyrrha, the best friends and warriors I will ever have. May they always know happiness and prosperity and be blessed with many healthy children!" Then he drained the glass.

"Here, here!" echoed the guests, and they too drank.

"Thank you, my friend," Amnerion said softly to Theseus when they had sat down again. "I owe you far more than I can ever repay."

"No, you don't. You've saved my life more times than I can count. Besides, brothers don't owe debts." Theseus told him, grinning. "Congratulations, little brother."

Amnerion stared, then caught the king in a fierce embrace. Then he scowled and said, "Now wait just a minute, _I'm_ two months older than you, Theseus, so who are you calling little brother?"

"King's prerogative."

"The hell it is. You just can't bear to be second to me, _little_ brother."

"Shut up, Amnerion."

Pyrrha and Ariadne exchanged glances. "_Men!_" they said in unison.

Both king and captain turned and glared at them. "Just what's that supposed to mean?" Theseus demanded.

Ariadne shrugged. "Figure it out."

"I think they're making fun of us, Theseus." Amnerion said.

"I agree. Wives should respect their husbands, don't you think?"

"Absolutely. So what are we going to do about it?" Amnerion asked with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"_Do_ about it?" Pyrrha cried, her eyes flashing. "You're the ones acting like brainless little children, you miserable excuse for a—" she never finished, for Amnerion began to kiss her quite thoroughly.

Ariadne opened her mouth to say something, but Theseus pulled her to him and kissed her. She quite forgot what she was going to say. His kiss was deft, expert, and filled with a longing she hadn't realized him capable of feeling for her ever again. She lost herself in it.

The next thing she knew she was staring into laughing aqua eyes, as Theseus said, "Interesting solution, don't you think?"

"Very." Ariadne whispered, blushing. "Shall we dance? If I eat any more, I won't be able to walk tomorrow."

"Me either," the king admitted, giving her the quicksilver smile she loved so well. Then he was drawing her onto the dance floor, into the graceful steps of a reel.

Amnerion, Pyrrha, and several others joined them almost immediately. As Theseus whirled her about in his arms, Ariadne allowed herself to feel the desire she had thought long dead. _This is how it was meant to be. Blessed Mother, but I love him still!_

Laughing, she abandoned herself to the music, too caught up in the joy of the moment to feel anything else.

Until she caught sight of Phaedra, dancing in the arms of a handsome young aristocrat. Her sister flirted and laughed with her companion, but Ariadne could detect the falseness beneath her glittering mask, though she doubted if anyone else could. Phaedra was wearing a daringly low cut deep purple gown, and jewels flashed at ears, neck, arms, and ankles.

She reminded Ariadne of the harem girls of Persia, with their seductive dances accompanied only by their clinking bangles. A shiver went through her as she recalled that tonight was the night of the Summer Solstice, the night of the dark moon, when Hecate's power was at its height.

As if reading her thoughts, Phaedra lifted her head and stared directly at Ariadne. In her half-lidded eyes gleamed malice so great that it was a wonder her eyes did not smolder.

Ariadne met her gaze without flinching, and smiled coolly. _Beware little sister. For the Falcon hunts the Serpent._

Their gaze was broken by the whirling of the dance, but Ariadne was icy cold, all the joy drained out of her. Theseus sensed her withdrawal, and halted abruptly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired," Ariadne lied swiftly, keeping her face averted, for she was a terrible liar and one look at her face and he would know of her deception.

"Why don't you sit down?" he suggested, guiding her back to the table. "I'll go and get you something to drink."

As soon as he had disappeared among the crowd, Ariadne rose to her feet and made her way across the hall to where Theseus had stationed some of his hearthguard. To her surprise, she saw Thea was on duty.

"Hello, Ariadne!" the little warrior greeted her cheerfully. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes. Too bad you got stuck working."

"Just my luck." The other shrugged. "But at least I'm stationed inside, where I can enjoy watching the party, if not joining in it. Besides, someone's got to keep all these drunken merrymakers in line!"

"True. But they may not be the only ones you have to worry about."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that there is one among you who is a follower of the Dark Arts. Very soon now I will expose her for what she is, and I want you to be prepared for any trouble."

"Does the king know of this?"

"No, not yet. Have no fear, no harm will come to him, that I promise you." Ariadne assured her. "But my Power cannot protect everyone. I depend upon you to guard the others here, for there's no telling what she might do once she is exposed. So be ready for anything."

"As you command, Lady." Thea saluted sharply. "We will be ready." Then she turned to inform the rest of her squad.

Ariadne hurried back to the table, where she discovered Theseus searching for her, wineglass clutched in one fist. ""Here you are! I was wondering where you had gone. Come, the gifts are about to be presented."

She took the proffered glass and sipped at it, wishing the sweet wine had the power to soothe her battle-tensed nerves. All of her senses, both physical and psychic, were strained to the utmost, for she sensed that Phaedra would strike soon. She did her best to keep Theseus from noticing, though she had the feeling that his sharp eyes missed nothing, the way he kept staring at her.

"Come, let us not keep everyone waiting," she said with false cheer and made her way through the crowd to the top of the dais where Amnerion and Pyrrha were seated. Theseus stood beside Amnerion's left hand, and at his nod, people began to file up, each giving the couple a gift.

Some of the gifts were simple, a basket of fresh bread and cakes from the baker, homemade jams, fruit, a pair of fine leather sandals for each of them from the tanner, beautiful woven blankets and warm cloaks. Others were more elaborate, silver goblets, necklaces, a beautifully carved wooden chest of oak. Pyrrha's parents gave the couple a beautifully woven tapestry to hang in their bedroom of an apple orchard in full bloom and a couple seated beneath a tree. The detail was exquisite. From the hearthguard came gifts of finely crafted bows and quivers of arrows, daggers, and bowguards and bracers. Theseus presented the couple with two suits of armor, masterpieces of the smith's art, "From Ariadne and I. Use them well."

Even Alethea shyly ran up to give her own gift, a handmade brooch for Amnerion made of shells and brilliant sea glass, and for Pyrrha a matching necklace of smaller stones. "I made them myself," she whispered.

"They are beautiful." Pyrrha smiled, and put the necklace on.

"We'll treasure them, sprite," Amnerion told her, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

Other gifts came, amphorae of sweet wine and olive oil, a new leather saddle and bridle from Kleitus, dresses and tunics from Cytheria and Hylo, bowls and cups from the potter. Ariadne's teeth ached from clenching them, for the sense of imminent danger was growing. She felt as if she watched through a veil of smoky mist, caught like a fly in a spider's web.

Then the storm broke. Phaedra moved forward, her purple gown shimmering like dark wings about her, her hands clutching a slender package wrapped in green cloth. She glided up to the dais with all the sinuous grace of a cobra that spies her prey awaiting her on a rock. A dark haze seemed to shroud her form.

Ariadne felt her stomach turn over as she saw that black haze surrounding her sister's tall form. It was the final proof that Phaedra was an initiate of the Dark Mysteries. And the thing she held in her hands fairly blazed with dark magic to one with the Gift. The Priestess-Queen began to chant softly under her breath, summoning her power.

Phaedra flashed a triumphant smile at the couple and spoke in a voice that was all sweet poison; "I congratulate you on your marriage, Amnerion and Pyrrha. May you and yours know peace." _The peace of the dead, that is. _Then she unwrapped the gift.

It was a beautiful silver dagger. Its handle was carved with mother of pearl and on the pommel was a huge stone of smoky quartz crystal. It caught the light of the torches and seemed to draw it in, winking brilliantly.

Ariadne felt the spell of the dagger flare, seeking to make all that saw it desire it. The darkness oozed like slime from every pore of the metal. She saw Pyrrha start, as if waking from a dream, and look at the dagger with revulsion. Only then did Ariadne recall the necklace she had given her, the necklace spelled to protect the wearer from dark magic. Horrified, she remembered she had intended to give Amnerion one as well, but somehow she had forgotten.

Too late.

She saw Amnerion's eyes widen, falling deeply under the spell. He reached for the dagger.

And Ariadne stepped in front of him. "Don't touch it, Amnerion!" she commanded in a voice sharp enough to crack glass.

Amnerion blinked as if awaking from a nightmare. "What?"

"What do you mean by this, sister? How dare you insult me like this?" Phaedra cried, her tone that of a hurt child.

"Don't play games with me, Phaedra. I know you for who and what you are." Ariadne's voice rang out like a clarion call. "That dagger is no innocent gift, but a relic of dark magic, an instrument of death dedicated to Hecate herself!"

"You are mad!" Phaedra laughed.

"By the Mother's Eyes, I command thee, reveal thy true nature!"

There was a flash of green light and a sound like a thunderclap. Instantly the blade turned black and radiated such an aura of horror that people screamed and staggered backward, terrified. Before Phaedra could react, Ariadne spoke another word of Power, bringing her hands together with a snap.

The black blade flared and shattered, eaten from within by green fire.

Phaedra howled in fury. "Did you think you could defeat me so easily, Ariadne? You forget, sister dear, tonight is the night of the dark moon, and those who draw power from darkness are stronger than those of the light!"

One hand swept up, purple fire crackling from it.

Before she could release it, Ariadne had formed a curving shield about herself. The fire struck the barrier, hissing and sparking, but unable to penetrate it. "And now, at last, you have revealed yourself for what you are, Phaedra! A disciple of Hecate, the Dark Lady, Mistress of Poison and Assassins. You cannot hide any longer, all now know the truth."

Phaedra gasped, only then realizing that she had broken the most basic of Hecate's laws, and revealed her powers to the uninitiated. She felt the disapproval of her dark goddess and cringed beneath it. "Dark Lady, forgive me!"

"She will not, and neither shall I!" Ariadne cried, her tone implacable as steel. "Phaedra of the House of Minos, you have betrayed your House and your sworn oath to the Mother. I name you outcast and oathbreaker, willing servant of darkness, let none give you shelter or aid, lest the wrath of the Mother fall upon you! Thus you are cursed, for now until your death!"

Theseus came to stand beside her, his face grimmer than Hades. There was no softness in him now, only the iron determination to bring a traitor to justice. "Furthermore, for your practice of dark sorcery, I condemn you as a traitor. Guards, take her!"

Thea and her squad began to edge forward, shoving ruthlessly through the crowd. Phaedra glanced about her wildly, an edge of panic in her eyes. Then she whirled, her eyes glittering with unholy glee. "Do you think I will submit so tamely to your justice, fool? Then you know nothing of a dark initiate!"

Dark power welled from her fingertips, gathering and pulsing like a cascading inferno.

"Theseus, get down!" Ariadne shrieked, flinging herself atop him.

A wave of dark power hurled over them.

Ariadne felt her shield hold, but just barely.

She sprang to her feet, prepared to counter the dark tide again.

Phaedra crouched before her, but Ariadne sensed that her dark power was spent. She had lost the favor of her goddess, and with it her magic.

"Surrender, Phaedra. It's over." Theseus ordered.

"Not until I'm dead, Athenian barbarian!"

She turned to run.

Before Ariadne could move to pursue, she heard a low sobbing voice behind her. "Amnerion! _No!_ You can't die, not now!"

Spinning around, she saw to her horror Pyrrha crouched over the body of a mortally wounded Amnerion, who had been without the protection of an amulet when the dark magic had struck.

Pyrrha stared up at her, tears streaking her face. "Ariadne . . .you can help him . . .can't you?"

The Priestess-Queen of Knossos stared down at her fallen friend, jaw clenched grimly. Rage burned in her, rage hotter than the fires of Mount Aetna. Phaedra had done this. And by all that she held dear, the treacherous bitch would pay. She would seek the dark one out, rend her with her Power, and break her on the sword of her empathy.

_"Ariadne, please!"_

Pyrrha's frantic cry snapped her out of her trance. Rage was forgotten. Revenge could wait. Ariadne knelt by Amnerion's side. His face was ashen pale, his chest barely moved. She could feel the life slipping from him. Livid red marks slashed his chest and abdomen.

Ariadne placed her hands on his face. "Mother, help me!" she prayed. Then she called upon her healing Gift. It came with all the force of a raging spring flood, sweeping through her with the force of a typhoon.

But she dared not release the total sum of that power on Amnerion; his weakened body would not stand for it. She must channel and control the raw power, temper it the way a smith tempers iron, until it became something she could use. It was like trying to hold onto a tornado with her bare hands, it bucked and twisted and fought, until she began to fear that not all her will would be enough. _No! I will not surrender! I will not let the Fates take Amnerion!_

Then her will clamped down, forcing the raw power to bend to her mastery. She sent the power into the weakened Amnerion in gentle bursts, one to strengthen his weakening heart, another to remove the poison in his blood, still another to clear his laboring lungs. Golden light flared around her as she focused all of her will, all of her power, all of her determination upon the still figure lying before her.

_Live._

The dark magic could not stand up under the assault; she drove it from him with a wild snarl of victory. Spent, she released her hold on the power, slumping forward over Amnerion.

Amnerion opened his eyes.

"Ariadne! What's the matter with you?" he cried.

"Amnerion! You're all right!" Pyrrha cried, hugging him so hard he feared his ribs would crack. "Ariadne healed you."

Slowly Amnerion nodded. "That's right . . .I could feel myself fading, but she brought me back. But who's going to heal her?" He struggled into a sitting position, cradling Ariadne in his arms.

At his touch, Ariadne stirred. Her green eyes opened. She smiled at Amnerion. Then she went pale. "Phaedra. Where is she?"

"Gone." Pyrrha answered. "She fled, and Theseus went after her. He took Thea and the rest of the hearthguards with him. I hope he tears the murdering bitch to pieces!"

Ariadne did not answer. She no longer cared about revenge. She only hoped Theseus survived.

**So how did you all like the way the wedding started? I researched ancient Greek weddings for it as much as I could. And yes, there is a cliffy but . . .I'm known for them!**


	24. Chapter 23

PHAEDRA RAN WITH THE desperation of a hunted cougar, slipping through the milling crowd of wedding guests like a sea serpent through water. She could hear the pounding feet of the guards behind her, but she ignored their cries to halt and ran on.

Javelins flew past her to land with a thud in the earth. She put on another desperate burst of speed. The caves. If she could reach the caves she would be safe. Not even the guards would dare follow her there; it was a maze of tunnels and warrens, the breeding grounds of the venomous sea serpents. Only she knew the safe path through the twisting caverns. She had no fear of the serpents. Her Dark Mistress would protect her.

She turned to run down the narrow track to the beach. Suddenly torches flared before her. Damn them! They had cut off her escape route. Furious, she tried to double back, but she could hear the heavy pounding of her pursuers drawing nearer.

Panic thundered in her veins. She would die here, like a trapped animal, hunted down and killed. _No! It was not supposed to end this way. I was supposed to win! Dark Lady, why have you deserted me?_

But the shadows were silent about her.

Her goddess had deserted her.

_Fine, then! I don't need you!_

Cursing softly, Phaedra began to scale the cliff wall, climbing around the edge of the palace bulwark. Far below her, the sea crashed against the shore, thundering in her ears like the vengeful Furies. Ariadne's words came back to her then, taunting and merciless. _I name you oathbreaker and outcast. You are cursed, for now until you die._ Ignoring the despair that settled about her like lead, she set her foot firmly in a crevice and pushed upward.

The stone crumbled beneath her foot.

For one moment she hung in midair. Then her fingers found another precarious handhold. Her strength was almost gone. Then her feet found another crevice, and she managed to climb a few more feet.

"Phaedra!"

She swung her head toward the voice. It was familiar.

"So, king of Athens. You've found me at last. Proud of yourself?"

Theseus stood on the lip of the cliff, staring up at her. In his hands was a sword, though he made no move to use it. Phaedra remained crouched against the gray stone, her dress in shreds, her honey hair whipping about her head in wild tendrils. Her face, which he had once compared to a porcelain doll, was streaked with dirt and bleeding from the rough rock. Her wide hazel eyes gleamed with despair and hate. And something more. Fear.

"Come down. You can't run any more. There's nowhere for you to go."

"Go to hell, Theseus!"

"You have a choice. I can order my soldiers to shoot you down. Or you can come down willingly and stand trial."

"How magnanimous! The famed Athenian justice! A trial where you will condemn me to death for black sorcery." She laughed wildly. "And to think, I cared for you once. What a fool I was, to ever think a weakling like you was a fit mate for me. I could have made you king over all of Greece, given you power such as no mortal man has had in centuries. You would have been like unto a god! And I would have been at your side as a goddess! But what did you do? You cast me aside for that whining, sniveling excuse for a priestess! When we could have ruled the world!"

"I never wanted to rule the world. Only Athens. You never did understand that, Phaedra."

"Coward!" she sneered. "Come up and kill me, then! Or are you afraid to soil your pretty hands with the death of a woman? I killed your precious Amnerion, after all!"

Theseus's eyes blazed. "No. Ariadne will save him."

"So you hope!"

"No. I would know if Amnerion were dead. You've failed, Phaedra. Your power is gone. Your goddess has deserted you. You have nothing left save pride. Come down. You have no other choice."

"You are wrong, Theseus. There is another choice." She removed one hand from the rock. "With my dying breath I curse your city, your people, Theseus of Athens! May Hecate's dark hand fall upon you!"

Then she let go.

For one moment she hung suspended in midair.

Then her body flew through the air to land with a sickening crunch on the jagged rocks below.

Theseus gazed down at the crumpled form and shook his head. "Such a waste. May the gods have mercy on you, Phaedra."

He turned and walked away, and so he did not see the brief flare of purple fire that rose from the still form. Then all was still once more, save the wind, which began to howl mournfully through the trees.

**Well, she finally met her fate, as was prophecied. I know this is a really short chapter, so I'm posting the next one right away.**


	25. Chapter 24

ARIADNE KNEW THE MOMENT of Phaedra's death; it howled through her like an icy wind, chilling in its finality. Strangely, she did not feel grief, only a vast sense of relief. At last the threat to her family and her kingdom was at an end. She could relax her lonely vigil. Exhaustion crept up on her then, making her limbs feel like iron, but she could not give into it, not yet. Not until she knew Theseus was safe.

Biting her lip, she pushed herself to her feet. People still milled about the great hall, huddled together in frightened knots, speaking in fearful whispers of dark sorcery and witchcraft. "But the Lady will protect us," one woman was saying to another. "She drove the witch out."

"Do you truly think so?"

"Of course."

She wanted to weep. Such confidence they had in her power to work miracles. They would never know how close she had come to failing. Her power had almost not been enough. Only luck had prevented Phaedra from turning her wrath upon the helpless townsfolk instead of her. _You will never know how close you came to death this night,_ Ariadne told the woman silently, and shuddered.

A hand on her shoulder made her start. "I think you'd better sit down." Pyrrha ordered quietly, but with a commander's implacable tone. "You're white as a sheet. Healing Amnerion can't have been easy. You need to rest."

Ariadne allowed herself to be led to a chair. She slumped gratefully into it. Pyrrha sat next to her. "I know I don't have to say this, but . . .thank you for saving Amnerion. If I had lost him . . ."

"I know." Ariadne laid a soothing hand on the other woman's shoulder. "Believe me, I know. Theseus . . ."

"You love him, don't you?"

"He is the other half of me."

"Then why don't you—" Pyrrha halted, blushing crimson. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business. Sometimes my mouth runs ahead of my brain."

"Marry him?" Ariadne finished. "It's a fair question. But . . .a marriage not based on trust is no true marriage at all. After what I have done, Theseus no longer trusts me."

"But Amnerion told me you had no choice, it was the will of the gods that you leave him then." Her friend protested. "You made a great sacrifice."

"Yes. But I shouldn't have been the one to do so."

Pyrrha snorted. "Men! They think they hold the monopoly on sacrifice! Let a man do what you did, they'd fall all over themselves calling him noble and a hero. But let a woman sacrifice herself . . .Someone ought to break a sword over his royal head. Maybe then he'll see sense."

"Maybe I'll try it."

"Try what?" Amnerion asked, sitting down beside Pyrrha. Ariadne was pleased to note his color was much better.

"Breaking a sword over certain people's heads." Pyrrha answered.

"Not mine, I hope. I've had just about enough for one night."

Pyrrha looked horrified. "I'd never do such a thing to you!" Then she added slyly, "Not right away, anyway."

"Thank you so much, beloved. I'm locking your sword in a chest when we're at home." He growled. "Speaking of thanks . . ." he turned to Ariadne.

The Priestess-Queen held up a hand. "Don't please. It is I who owe you an apology for Phaedra ruining your wedding. If I had acted sooner—"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Amnerion scolded. "Her actions were not your fault. She chose her own path, as did we all. You are not responsible that she chose wrong. Besides, I haven't been to a wedding yet where there hasn't been some kind of brawl. Last one I was at, centaurs carried off the bride. Now there was a real disaster! So I'd say this one was almost . . .ordinary."

Before Ariadne could reply, she heard a familiar voice call, "Amnerion! You're all right, thank the gods!"

Theseus came up to them, a look of profound relief on his face. He clasped Amnerion in a warrior's greeting. "You don't look that bad. She told me she had killed you."

"She was mistaken. Thanks to Ariadne." Amnerion told him grimly.

Theseus turned to face her, his aqua eyes shadowed with regret. "Ariadne . . .Phaedra's dead. She threw herself off the Rock. I couldn't stop her. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She chose her own death. The woman that died tonight was not my sister. The Phaedra I knew died long ago, when she first gave herself to dark magic." Ariadne whispered softly.

Theseus nodded. Then he turned to Amnerion, "Well, this isn't quite the wedding we'd planned, but at least we're still here to celebrate it, gods be praised. And now, I think we've delayed your wedding night long enough. So why don't you . . .retire? Ariadne and I will handle the rest of this mess."

Amnerion grinned. "That's the best suggestion I've had all night. Right, Pyrrha?"

"Quite." The warrior smirked. "Good night, you two. Pleasant dreams."

Amnerion picked his wife up in his arms and began to walk toward the stairs. "Amnerion, what are you doing? Put me down!" she sputtered.

"Not yet."

Laughter echoed down the stairs, as they ascended to Amnerion's quarters.

Ariadne watched them go, a wistful smile on her face. Then she turned to Theseus. "Did Phaedra . . .say anything before she died?"

"Yes." He nodded grimly. "Something about the Dark Lady's curse falling on the city. Typical priestess nonsense. She lost her powers, after all."

Slowly Ariadne nodded. Yet his words did not reassure her. She knew the power revenge could hold, even after death. Then she shook her head. She did not have the strength to worry about it now. She turned to go.

Theseus caught her arm. "Did you know what she was, Ariadne?" he demanded, anger making his voice rasp. She only nodded mutely. "Damn it, woman, why didn't you tell me? She threatened my kingdom, my friends! I should have known. You could have said _something_!"

"It was not your problem."

"Poseidon's Holy Trident!" he swore. "A dark sorceress takes up residence in Athens and you say it wasn't my problem! How by the gods grace can you be so—" Then it hit him. "Lady's Eyes, you were trying to protect me from her!"

She looked at him then, and in her eyes burned the same fiery passion that had enabled a young girl to defeat the rampaging monster Minotauros. "My family has caused you enough trouble, I did not want you to have to deal with Phaedra as well. Besides, there was little you could have done to stop her before tonight. She lost her powers because she revealed what she was before witnesses, a circumstance that would have never occurred had you not broken the betrothal contract. I did not know what she was until I scryed deliberately for the taint of dark magic, which I did only after Alethea was nearly killed."

"Phaedra was behind that?"

"Yes. It was she who put the idea into Alethea's head to go look for treasure in those caves. She did it to strike back at you and at me as well."

"And you never told me! Did you think I was incapable of protecting my own daughter?"

"Against a physical threat, no. Against dark magic, yes. You have no defense against it, Theseus, any more than most other mortals. You were not initiated as I was, taught to battle the arcane, you do not possess the Power I do. She would have seized control of your will in less time than it takes to breathe, and once captured she could have made you do—anything. Do not make the mistake of thinking she was soft and helpless, for she possessed Power nearly as great as my own, and she would not have scrupled to use you that way if she had to. The best way to protect you was to keep you unknowing, and shielded, so she could not work magic on you. I did what I had to, what I felt was right."

"Ariadne, Ariadne. Don't you realize that you cannot protect me from everything, no matter how much you wish to? You can't be the guardian for the entire world, no one can. Little goddess, you are only mortal."

"I know. But I can't help myself, any more than I can grow wings and fly. It is something I was born with, like my Gift of empathy. I failed with her, don't you see? I was blind to the truth until it was too late. I allowed her to become what she was! And I could not let you pay for my mistakes!" she whispered, unaware of the tears that trickled down her face. She was so tired. So tired of fighting. She wanted to close her eyes, to sleep, to drift away. A gray mist rose before her eyes, enfolding her in its warm coils.

"Ariadne!" Theseus caught her before she toppled to the floor. "Father of Storms, what's wrong with you?" He cradled her close, feeling frantically for a pulse. He found it, and gasped in relief. It was strong and steady. She was sleeping deeply. Exhausted, he thought. She saved Amnerion with her Gift and used all her strength doing so. And then he had returned and started an argument with her when she could barely stand on her feet. _Gods, I am an insensitive bastard. I let my pride get the better of me. Amnerion was right. Someone ought to beat me senseless._

Gently, he brushed a lock of hair from her head. Then he mounted the stairs, making his way to the marble suite of rooms set aside for Ariadne's use. Shoving open the door, he entered. Alethea was already asleep, sprawled on the bed. He carefully moved his daughter over and laid Ariadne next to her.

For long moments he remained staring down at them. How vulnerable they looked, how peaceful. He ached suddenly to join them. But he sensed that Ariadne was not ready, not yet. But soon . . .he kissed her gently, and whispered, "Sleep well, my love."

* * * * * *

Ariadne woke the next morning to a lark singing outside her window, and Alethea's face peering at her from a tangle of bedcovers. "Good morning, Bright Eyes. Did you sleep well?"

"Sort of." The child yawned. "Mama, will Uncle Amnerion be all right? He won't die, will he?"

"No, little one. My magic healed him. He's healthy as a horse." Ariadne hastened to reassure her.

"Good. I hope that when I grow up I have magic like yours, magic that helps people, not the bad kind, like Aunt Phaedra's." the little girl stated firmly. "She was mean. She hurt Uncle Amnerion for no reason. I hope Papa caught her and punished her good for what she did. I wanted to help, but Hylo wouldn't let me. She made me go to bed instead."

_Thank the Goddess for that!_ Ariadne thought. The last thing she had needed last night was Alethea underfoot. Thank goodness Hylo looked out for her, because Ariadne had been in no shape to do so after bringing Amnerion back from the brink of death. "Why don't you get dressed, and then we can have breakfast?"

"All right. Then can we go down to the beach? Let's have a picnic!"

"That sounds like a very good idea." Ariadne said brightly, secretly relieved that she had an excuse to get out of the palace, for there was less chance of running into Theseus that way. _Coward!_ A small voice taunted. She winced, but knew she was not up to another confrontation today. Her nerves were still raw from the last one. It was better to let his temper cool before she sought him out. _You'll have to face him eventually. You can't avoid him forever._

Suddenly Alethea said, "Mama, what _did _happen to Aunt Phaedra? Did Papa put her in prison?"

"No, he didn't. You see, she fell off the Rock before he could do that. She's dead, sweetheart."

"Oh." The child was silent for a long moment. Then she burst out, "I'm glad she's dead! Now she can't hurt anyone any more." Her eyes were very bright. "Am I bad for saying that?"

Ariadne hugged her. "No, no, love. Though it's true you shouldn't want people to be dead. But I understand. Your aunt was very evil, and she hurt a lot of people. But that's over. She'll never hurt you again."

"Will the gods punish her then?"

"Yes, I imagine she will be judged and sentenced for the crimes she committed in life. The gods will give her the afterlife she has earned, of that I am certain. Perhaps she may learn from it and be a better person in her next life."

Alethea snorted. "That'd take a miracle!" then she wriggled out of her mother's arms and continued dressing.

Ariadne smiled wryly. _I wish she was wrong, but somehow I think she's right. Phaedra's deeds in this life were so bad that it may take her several to balance the scales._ Just then she recalled Theseus's words. _She cursed the city, saying the Dark Lady's hand would fall upon it._

A sudden frission of fear crawled up her spine.

She knew that curse, it was an ancient one that used the person's own life force to fuel it and give it power. It fed on the revenge and hatred of the person casting it, and it took on a life of its own, even after the caster's death. _She threw herself off the Rock. _A willing death. A willing sacrifice. The curse has been activated then.

_There is nothing I can do to stop it. I can only wait, and see what form it may take. Then I must deal with it as best I can. But at least I can warn Theseus. I don't want to deal with this alone. Not this time._

"Stay here a minute, will you, Alethea? I'll be right back. I have to tell your father something important." She left her quarters at a dead run.

* * * * * *

They did not have long to wait. Within a week the nature of the curse had manifested. It did not take the form of fire, flood, or violence. No natural disasters occurred. It came in a form that was unseen, a form that was almost impossible to fight against.

For Phaedra had brought the plague to Athens.

The Red Death, as it was called.

It swept through the city like wildfire, indiscriminately striking the young, the old, the healthy. It began with a fever that sapped most of the body's precious water, and then the afflicted broke out in a red rash on the chest and face. The throat swelled and closed, making it nearly impossible to swallow. The fever brought delirium, convulsions, and at last death. All of those symptoms were treatable in and of themselves, but it was the speed of the disease that defeated the healers. It could kill within three days or the patient could linger for three weeks. Most it killed swiftly; those that did not succumb at once had a good chance of surviving. But no known herb or remedy had yet been found to halt the disease once it had begun, and there were few that could combat it in time.

The only thing that could help those stricken recover fully was the healing Gift of the Mother.

At the first sign of the disease, Ariadne and Theseus sent Alethea to safety on Naxos, for that island had few visitors and once told of the plague, they closed their harbor to outsiders. Ariadne, knowing that even her Gift would not be enough to minister to the hundreds who would need it, summoned priestesses from Knossos, all of those most skilled in healing to her aid. Even so, she feared it would not be enough.

Day after day more and more fell ill, and the healers were hard pressed to keep up with the number of patients. They had started a field hospital in the warehouse district nearest the great river, for a source of fresh water was paramount to fighting the fever. Ariadne admitted no one near the ward that was not a healer, for the disease was most contagious at its early stages.

She set her acolytes to boiling willowbark tea, infusions of cherrybark for sore throats, salves of aloe, cornstarch, and honey for the rashes. She made them disinfect their hands and arms in a mixture of boiled rum and astringent herbs and drink an infusion of fern root and spirea seeds in hope that this would strengthen their bodies against the disease. Her precautions worked, for the most part, and few of her helpers fell sick. Those that did succumbed to a milder form and recovered sooner than others stricken. Ariadne ordered the infusion given to the rest of the populace who remained healthy.

Then she worked ceaselessly, filling buckets with fresh water, bathing fevered foreheads, rubbing salve into burning skin, coaxing a patient to swallow a mouthful of willowbark. She used her power on those she judged needed it most, careful not too spend herself too recklessly.

She ached in sympathy for her people's pain, for the trust they felt for her, for her own inability and fear to fight the plague as she wished. She kept careful hold on her empathic Gift, for she knew if she let her guard down, the emotions of all those suffering would be too much for her to handle.

But the effort of doing so gave her a blinding headache, one that she could not stop to treat, for there was always one more who needed her. Her hands became rough and reddened from constant immersion in icy water, her muscles were one long agonizing ache from kneeling at the sickbeds of patients, her eyes stung from the burning herbs of angelica, valerian, and mint that were kept lit to ease the breathing of the patients. She fought the disease with all the medical knowledge at her command, all the herbal remedies she had learned at the temple and those Cleate and Aglaia had taught her, and all the instincts she possessed from a lifetime spent with her healing Gift.

Even so, people died.

The first stricken passed so quickly she did not have time to mourn them, only to see that they were properly burned upon a pyre. But the next wave, those she tended from the beginning, who looked at her with such hope in their fever bright eyes, who faded despite all she could do, those tore at her soul. Worst of all were the children, most of who slipped into delirium within in a day and never awakened. Those she gave of her Gift unstintingly, until her acolytes had to drag her away by force lest she drain herself dry.

Her eyes were red from tears she dared not shed, for fear that once she began she would never stop weeping. Black despair hovered over her like a cloud, threatening to smother what was left of her determination and hope. Bitterly she cursed Phaedra, whose need for revenge and hatred had caused this to happen. "May you rot in hell for an eternity, sister mine!" she spat one day after losing one of Theseus's Falcons to death's cold embrace.

"I quite agree," said a gentle voice at her elbow.

Turning, she stared into the gray bearded face of Acteon, High Priest of Poseidon. "Acteon! What are you doing here?" Fatigue made her voice hoarse and muffled.

"I have a small Gift of healing, not much but enough to ease the pain of those I touch." He explained. "But I am an extra pair of hands and I will do what I can to help you."

"Thank you so much. I only wish I could do more." Tears glittered at the corners of her eyes.

"My child, we all do what we can. Remember, we cannot save everyone."

"I know. It is the first lesson a healer learns how to let one who is beyond help go. But I had forgotten. It is so hard, to watch them die like this. I was never so helpless in my life! I pray to the Mother to help me, but she is silent. Why do the gods let this continue?" she raged.

"I don't know. All we can do is hope it ends soon."

_Or there will be no one left alive to mourn us._

Ariadne sighed, rubbing eyes that burned from lack of sleep. "Forgive my short temper, Acteon. I have lost my patience with all save the sick these days."

He patted her shoulder. "There is nothing to forgive. You are exhausted. Get some rest before you become sick as well."

She nodded and made as if to go to the small partition where the healers slept, but then she slipped into another ward when his back was turned. She could not bear to tell him that she was unable to sleep, for when she closed her eyes she dreamed of people calling her, faces of those who had died sobbing and pleading with her to save them, arms reaching out to grab her, shrieking of broken promises. Far better to work than to walk through her nightmares, no matter how weary she was.

The one thing she had to be grateful for was that those she loved most had not yet been stricken with the disease. Mercifully, she had been spared that. But she missed Pyrrha's quick laugh and Amnerion's teasing grin. Most of all she missed Theseus's quiet smile, and the way his aquamarine eyes would light up in amusement, the way his arms had held her as they had danced the night of the wedding. She wished desperately that he were there so that she might share her fear with one who did not expect miracles, who did not see her as a priestess, but a woman. Yet she had made him promise that he would not seek her out, not until she was sure it would be safe. _But oh, Mother, I am so weary of being alone. So weary of being strong. The people look to me for answers, for solace, and I can give them nothing. _

Shivering, she gathered up her cloak and went to gather more water.

One week later Acteon came to her with an excited look on his face. "Ariadne, I think I've discovered an infusion that lowers the fever rapidly," he told her excitedly. "I've been experimenting with adding goldenrod and valerian in measured doses to willowbark, and those who are not too far along throw off the effects of the fever in a matter of hours!"

"Acteon, you're a genius!" Ariadne cried, and smiled for the first time in weeks. "Tell me the proportions of these herbs, so I can get the acolytes to mixing them immediately."

With Acteon's discovery, it seemed as if the Red Death had lost its grip. Over half of those infected recovered given the infusion in time. It was almost enough to make her believe in miracles.

Until a young acolyte came to fetch her, as she fed water to a sick elderly lady. "My Lady, come quickly, it's Acteon. He collapsed moments ago, I think he's caught the plague."

Ariadne sprang from her seat with a movement so swift the boy saw only a blur of green. "Tend this patient for me!" She snapped. "Where is he?"

"The left hospital ward, Lady."

Ariadne did not bother with more words, but ran as if pursued by demons. _There could yet be time. Surely the disease is not too far along. Infusions of the goldenrod mixture will have him right in no time._

Yet a shadow of foreboding clung to her.

When she reached the High Priest's bedside, he was already burning with fever, his skin dry as parchment. His breath rasped in his throat, and she saw to her dismay that the rash had already broken out, covering his chest with red splotches. A sick dread filled her, for she knew with certainty that this was not the early stage of the disease.

_He must have fallen ill days ago and never bothered to say so. He was too busy tending to others that he refused to tend himself._

In a voice cracked with grief, she shouted, "Where's that damn goldenrod mixture? I want it here _yesterday_, blast it all!"

A quaking acolyte pressed a bowl into her hand. She seized it and began trying to get him to swallow tiny portions of it. Even then she knew it was too late. But her determination would not let her quit. She turned the full force of her Gift on him, the fever lessened for a day, then flared back up.

She remained by his side for three days, bathing him with icy water, coaxing him to drink her mixtures. He remained sunk in a deep sleep, never rousing. As she worked, she begged him to fight, to live. "Don't leave me, please. I need you too badly. You must live." Over and over she pleaded with him until her voice was gone, and then she begged with her eyes. To no avail. She sensed the thread of his life was dwindling.

At last he opened his eyes. "Ariadne, child, it is enough. You must let me go."

"Acteon, no! I can give you more medicine. My power will heal you."

"It is too late for that. You and I both know it. I had caught the fever several days before, I knew it but I told myself I could wait one more day to treat it. There were so many others . . . I misjudged the speed of the disease. There is nothing more you can do. I am so tired. I have lived a full life, now my god calls me home. I can see him there, beside me. He waits for me. I am not afraid." His eyes seemed to see through her.

"Acteon, don't go!"

"It is my time. Only your love binds me here. Release me, Ariadne. Let me complete the bargain."

"What bargain? Acteon, I don't understand!"

"You will." He smiled gently. "Promise me that you will marry Theseus. He needs you. Don't let pride keep you apart. Not like I did with one I loved, long ago. Promise me!"

"I promise."

"Good. Now bid me goodbye."

She bent and kissed him. "Go, my friend. May the last embrace of the Mother welcome you home."

Acteon smiled. Then his eyes closed.

For several moments she remained staring down at his still form, her mind was a seething mass of rage, sorrow, and guilt. "What did he mean, complete the bargain? _What bargain_?"

"The bargain he made with Poseidon." Came a quiet voice. "Actually it was with Zeus, but it really doesn't matter."

She spun around. "Hermes!"

The Master of Shadows smiled sadly, his amber eyes filled with pity. "I'll try and explain. Hecate was very angry at the death of one of her most powerful servants, even though Phaedra betrayed her. She demanded that a death from a worshipper of either Dia or Poseidon be given her to balance the scales. She wanted Amnerion, but Dia refused. They brought the quarrel to Zeus. While they fought, the plague raged unchecked. The rest of us were forbidden to interfere, by Zeus' direct command. At last Poseidon could bear it no longer. He agreed to Hecate's terms, but only if the follower was willing to give up his life in exchange for the cure to the Red Death. He asked many of his priests and priestesses. Only Acteon agreed."

"And you let him?"

"It wasn't my choice. I'm sorry."

"A damn lot of good that does! All this suffering, all this death, and for what? A goddess's pride and need for revenge!" Ariadne glared at the god, nearly beside herself with rage.

"We had no choice. The Balance must be kept. You know that."

"Damn the Balance! And damn you too!"

It was too much. All of her pent up anger exploded from her. Her hand cracked across the god's cheek like a whip.

Hermes remained unmoving, the mark of her hand livid on his skin.

Only then did she realize what she had done. Horrified at her temerity, she began to speak.

He waved her apology aside. "You can hit me again if you feel like it. You've a right to be angry. He was your friend. If I could bring him back, I would."

"Why can't you?"

"I can't bring back a soul who has willingly died. There are Laws even gods must follow. I may break one or two minor rules on occasion, but even I won't tamper with the Balance." He sighed.

"Why are you here, Shadow Master?"

"To tell you of the bargain. And to help you tend your patients." He grinned boyishly. "In case you haven't figured it out, I have a soft spot for mortals. You in particular."

"But—but what about your oath of noninterference?" she stammered.

"_That_ was only while Hecate struck her bargain with Poseidon. It doesn't count for now."

"But won't the others be angry with you? Won't you be in trouble?"

"Probably." He shrugged. "I'm used to it. Zeus will forgive me. Eventually. He always does."

"You don't have to—" she began.

"Yes, I do. I don't like it when people suffer like that. I would have spit on Hecate's bargain. It won't be the first time I've interfered in mortal affairs. And it won't be the last. So, tell me what we need to do. Time's flying."

Ariadne nearly choked. "You're a god! Don't you know?"

"Healing's Dia and Apollo's line. I'm the god of thieves and messengers, remember?" Hermes reminded. "Think of me as your new acolyte."

"I—all right. Thank you, my Lord." Ariadne managed to say. "Here's where we keep the infusions of goldenrod . . ."

Once she got over the shock, she found that Hermes was a wonderful assistant. He was tireless and possessed of endless patience. His innate compassion helped as much as the medicines in making the patients recover. Within a day half of those sick had recovered completely. Most of those had been under Hermes care. With their workload cut in half, Ariadne sent most of her acolytes home.

That was when the god told her in no uncertain terms to get some rest. "You haven't slept right in weeks. Now go to sleep. I can watch the rest of the sick. And don't worry about the dreams. You won't have any. Now do as I say."

Ariadne obeyed, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

When she awoke, she felt as refreshed as if she had slept several weeks. Upon visiting the wards she discovered all her patients recovered and returned to their homes. Hermes leaned nonchalantly against a wall, whistling cheerfully. "I speeded things up a little," he admitted. "Hera was starting to nag."

"Thank you."

"What are friends for?" His amber eyes twinkled merrily. "Sleep well?"

She nodded. Her eyes took in the empty beds and she realized for the first time that it was truly over. They had beaten the plague. Acteon's sacrifice had not been in vain. She could go home at last. She began to cry.

Hermes wrapped his arms around her, holding her until the storm of grief had run its course. He held her for a long time. At last she managed to get hold of herself. Sniffling, she blinked up at him. She was surprised to see his eyes were wet also.

"All right?"

"Yes."

"Good. I have to be going. Athens is safe again." He smiled at her gently. "It's time you went home. There's someone waiting for you there who's very anxious to tell you something. Something you've waited a long time to hear. Farewell, little Ariadne." His form began to blur. "For now anyway!"

Then he was gone in a sparkle of golden light.

But his golden laughter lingered in the air for days, and forever after all those who came to that hospital claimed to hear it, and it was considered a blessed place. Ariadne named the hospital Acteon's Rest. She was certain Hermes would understand and approve.

**Thanks everyone who has read this and left me reviews!! Next chapter will finally see Ariadne and Thesues reconciled.**


	26. chapter 25

THESEUS, KING OF ATHENS, paced the windswept beach for the hundredth time in twenty minutes. The Red Death was ended; the last of the sick had recovered enough to go home. He waited now for only one other to return. But she remained strangely absent. He began to fear that something had happened. Could she have become ill? Perhaps she was lying in some alley, hurt and helpless? Or perhaps she had decided to return to Naxos. Without him. His heart froze.

Then he heard a footstep behind him.

He turned.

Ariadne stood there, in a green wrinkled robe, her hair tangled, her eyes red. She had never looked so beautiful. He could not take his eyes off of her. At last he said, "You've come back."

"I will always come back to you."

Then she was in his arms.

He forgot everything save that she was his once more. His mouth claimed hers, drinking in the taste of her like a parched man drinking water. "Ariadne." He murmured against her hair. "I love you. I always have."

"Then you forgive me?"

"Gods, yes. A thousand times. I was a stubborn fool. My pride blinded me to the truth. It was easier for me to remain bitter and angry than to admit that you had a good reason for what you did. Phaedra was merely a distraction. But I nearly fell for her, she was that good. It was only when I compared her to you that I realized she was just a pale copy of the original. And that was not what I wanted. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course. You are the other half of my soul. Without you, I am empty. Incomplete." She shook her head. "There is so much I want to say, but words are not enough."

"We never needed words before."

Her eyes widened. There was no need for her to ask what he had meant. She closed her eyes. Then she did what she had not done in five long years. She opened her mind to him, sharing freely all of herself, all of the things that made her what she was. She held nothing back. She felt him stagger beneath the weight of her love, her trust. Then it changed, as he began to share his own feelings and memories. Through the link she felt his fear that he had lost her forever due to his anger and stubbornness. _Never. Not even the Fates could keep me from you. And if They could not, why would I let your pride come between us? We are one, as it was always meant to be. I love you, now, forever, and always. And nothing will ever separate us again._

The bond was reformed, a silvery mesh of thoughts and feelings, delicate as lace yet stronger than steel.

Never again would it be broken.

Blinking back tears, Theseus said softly, "I have just one more question to ask you. Will you be my wife, Ariadne?"

She answered in the only way she could. She said yes.

* * * * * *

They renewed their vows the next week. The whole kingdom celebrated. Daedelus came from Knossos to stand in as foster father to Ariadne, and Daphne, Pyrrha's mother, adopted her as her second daughter. Theseus's mother and grandfather came from Troizen to take part in the ceremony, Pittheus exclaiming loudly that Theseus might have let them know a bit sooner. His mother merely smiled and said that she was grateful to have a daughter at last.

Somehow the castlefolk managed to get the great hall ready and yet another enormous feast cooked in less than a day. Rumor had it that they were helped by the sudden appearance of an amber-eyed man. When asked who he was, he said only, "A friend of Ariadne's. Now stand back and let me work. We haven't got all day."

Everyone said it was a miracle. Ariadne merely laughed.

When she spoke her vows, pledging herself to her husband forevermore, she felt the warm embrace of the Mother about her. _You have done well, my beloved Daughter. Now you shall have what was promised so long ago, when first you came to me. May you and Theseus know love and happiness, blessed for all your lives, together for all eternity._

Later, curled in the strong arms of her husband, on their bridal bed, the new Priestess-Queen of Knossos and Athens whispered, "I will never forget this day. It was all I had dreamed it would be and more."

"Neither will I," her husband murmured. "I love you, Ariadne."

"That's the twelfth time you've said that," his wife reminded him.

"I know. I plan on saying it to you every morning, so that you never forget it." Theseus told her. "A certain amber-eyed god informed me that I had wasted five years making you miserable, and I had better correct the situation immediately." He then proceeded to do so, slowly and with infinite care, so that there would never be any doubt in her mind that what he said was true.

They came together in a brilliant burst of fire, one body, one, heart, one soul, as each gave the other the love they had so long denied, and they were whole and complete once more. And always would be.

**And so they are finally together!!**

**Next: the epilogue, as you see what happens a few years later.**


	27. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

ARIADNE WATCHED ALETHEA AND Pharaoh race over the sand, long limbs glistening in the afternoon sun. They were trailed by two smaller children with bright green eyes and sungold hair along with a pack of gangly cream and white fleethound pups. "Me first! Me first!"

Laughing, they flung themselves into the crystal sea, splashing and shrieking. Ariadne smiled. She had no fear of the sea, for all of her children could swim like fishes. Like their father.

Warm hands closed about her shoulders. "I found you. I wondered how long it would take you to get bored with the Council's endless bickering and come here. What would our people think if they knew?" he teased.

"They would think their queen is very wise, for she knows that there is nothing more important than spending time with those you love." Ariadne murmured, and kissed him.

"And they would be right." He kissed her back.

For long moments they stood so, entwined in each other's arms, watching the endless beauty of the waves against the shore, losing themselves in the eternal harmony of the land and the sea. Neither spoke, for they did not need words, for the language of the heart is one spoken in silence, and they had learned it long ago.

Until a breathless voice burst out, "Look! It's Mama and Papa! Let's get them."

Theseus and Ariadne exchanged glances.

Laughing, the King and Queen of Athens and Knossos abandoned their dignity and raced across the sand, gleefully pursued by a horde of children and dogs.

Far away, a pair of amber eyes watched and grinned in delight. "Destiny's promise is fulfilled at last." He said smugly to himself. "But this is only the beginning."

**I am thinking about doing a sequel with Alethea, Ariadne and Theseus's eldest daughter, and incorporating her story into yet another of my favorite Greek myths--Phaethon and the Chariot of the Sun. Would any of you who have read this be interested in reading it? Review and let me know please! And of course, review and let me know if you enjoyed this one!**


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